Cod Price - Tumblr Posts

Alexa, play Supermassive Black Hole by Muse

Bonus Simon “Ghost” Riley admiring his beautiful hot alt Romani wife

Ghost: *cries even harder*

Price: Alright, listen up you little shits!

Price: Not you, Doe. You’re an angel and we’re thrilled you’re here

Soap: Cap’n! Doe was not authorized tae be in MY barracks!

Doe: I barely put my foot in dere, ya fuckin’ donut!

Soap: Kick her out! Please!

Doe: Ah jes’ got ‘ere, fer fuck’s sake!

Price this close to clocking both of them:

Gaz to Price: Where the hell did we find this f*cking kid, man?

Doe: My dad threw me out the window when I was 3 because he thought that I looked weird

Doe: And then you kinda just picked me up

Doe: I remember that very vividly

Soap: *dying from laughter*

Its scary as hell but wow- i am liking this, pretty sure this could be a nice podcast series too with em telling details of what had gone down. Im drinking this so much, imagine the amount of good episodes too🤧🍵

You know those buzzfeed unsolved series where they talk about crime? Yeah, that. Would watch or listen to all the stories Reader has to tell✌️

Is it strange that i'm willing to listen tho?? Eh¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

A fate worse than death, part two

Summary:The rest of the time find out what happen to you and the others

Type:Scenario: 141 + Los Vaqueros X M!Reader

Version:Mw2

~

Gaz was trying to get it out of Price about what happened while Soap was helping Rudy get Alejandro to the medic and Ghost was sitting in his room thinking. And you were no where to be seen.

"Come on cap, tell me what happened"

Gaz and Price were headed towards the Kitchen, and Price was getting alittle annoyed with Gaz.

"No Gaz"

Gaz didn't know what happened so he didn't know how it still affected Price in ways he's never been affected before. When they reached the kitchen there were two newer recruits talking, they have been in the military before and actually worked alongside of you for quite some time but they were new to 141. When Gaz and Price sat down Gaz was just staring at him trying to get it out of him, just silently this time. But now Gaz could see how the captain was still alittle shaky from early.

"Yeah he's crazy man, one time he used his sledgehammer and bushed his way up to someone's head, hitting every spot."

One of the new recruits said. Gaz stopped looking at Price, turning his head slow enough for it to creak. Gaz was horrified with what he just heard.

"Damn, that is crazy"

The other recruit said like it was a normal thing. But then again you are named death after all.

"Wait, wait a second. Who are you talking about?"

Gaz asked still in complete shock. The recruits looked at him alittle confused.

"Death? You know y/n?"

Gaz looked at Price then back to the recruits quiet. He couldn't believe it, no. He refused to believe it. You were one of the nicest people, yeah you scared alot of the people on the team but he never seen why.

"Are...are you serious?"

The recruits nodded. Gaz was shocked, far beyond shocked. Like yeah your code name is death, but he never took it seriously. You? Brutally kill a guy? He couldn't believe it.

"Yeah, actually funny thing I heard one day that apparently he stabbed someone multiple times, and while they were still alive he shoved a smoke bomb down their throat and the smoke spewed out of the holes he made in them"

Price was still silent.

~Off to Soap~

Putting Alejandro on the bed in the medic room, Soap looked at Rudy worried.

"What happened?"

Rudy looked at Soap with a face that basically said 'I don't wanna talk about it'. Soap couldn't see what happened so he was clueless to what you did. Alejandro looked up at Soap.

"Wanna know what happened? It was death, that's what"

Alejandro stopped to cough abit. Letting out a disgusted sound.

"He was crazy, he beat the shit out of a shadow before bashing his hea in. I....I couldn't watch"

Alejandro looked down, ashamed, disturbed, disgusted. Soap chuckled abit, but by the looked of Rudy and Alejandro he knew they were serious.

"Wait? Y/n? Are you serious?"

Alejandro nodded, Rudy just looked away. Soap stood there silent, taking it all in. Before Rudy spoke.

"The captain was horrified"

~On to Ghost~

Throwing a ball up and down he thought to himself, 'what happened when the shadows head dropped?' That's all he could think about. One second the shadow had a gun pointed at someone, and the next second that someone hit the shadow in the head with the gun causing him to disappear from all the snipers view. Not that Gaz and Soap were paying attention. Ghost could see Price's horrified reaction, the look of pure shook and disgust in Rudy's face, and Alejandro start throwing up, violently. It dawned on Ghost that he could always ask you, or go back to see what you did. He'd rather ask you. Getting up Ghost went to find you. When he did he grabbed your shoulder, causing you to turn around.

"Sir, what did you do to that shadow?"

The devilish smile on your face told Ghost, it wasn't pretty.

~The story of what did, from all their perspectives~

Price looked at Gaz, and signed.

"He...The moment he had a open window he grabbed the gun, smacking the shadow in the face with it"

-

Rudy, gulped, and Alejandro glared at the ground.

"He crushed the guys cheek bone, so bad you could hear it crack all the way over by us"

-

You grabbed Ghost's hand and leaned in.

"I bashed that bastards head until be fell to the ground, he, I could alright see the blood dripping from his head.

-

Gaz listened carefully, leaning in he didn't want to miss any details.

-

Soap stayed quiet, not wanting to accidentally interrupt.

-

Ghost shivered slightly at how you spoke, it was creepy. Almost inhuman

-.

Price looked back at the table, in thought.

"Taking the gun, he didn't kill the man. No he did worse"

Gaz carefully got up, to make him and Price a cup of tea.

-

Rudy looked Soap in the eye, now stern.

"He continuously hit the guys thigns until they bleed no more"

Soap started to get nervous, just the thought of getting your thighs bashed in with a steel gun made his thigns tingle slightly.

-

You leaned back alittle seeing the discomfort in Ghost's eyes.

"He was screaming so loud, if was like music to my ears. As I watched his legs turn to mushy flesh infront of my very in eyes"

Ghost stepped back abit, now more cautious due to your creepy and low chuckling.

-

Price nervously messed with his fingers.

"He didn't stop beating his legs in until you could see the shadows nerves and veins sticking to the beaten muscle, that....ugh"

Price groaned at the thought of what you did, as Gaz listened getting uncomfortable himself from the way Price was unsettled.

-

Alejandro groaned loudly and stood up.

"He was like a senseless beast, when he turned around to look at us he bent in a way he shouldn't."

Alejandro practically yelled as Rudy nodded, Soaps full attention now on Alejandro. Soap was a tad bit uncomfortable, he's never seen Alejandro this freaked out over something. Neither has Rudy.

-

You stepped closer as Ghkst stepped backwards

"He begged begged me to not kill him, so I yanked him by the hair and asked him 'how?'"

Ghost has never felt this way around someone before, he didn't like it

-

Price looked you at Gaz seeing him making the finally touches in the tea.

"After he dropped his head, death was gonna stomp on his head, he was gonna kill him."

Gaz nodded and brought Price his tea. Recruits still standing there, listening.

-

Alejandro walked around the room to try and get the unsettling feeling out of him. As Rudy continued to inform Soap about what happened.

"He didn't get a chance to crush his head actually, the shadow stabbed the bottom of his foot causing him to jump back."

Soap thought that was the end and let out a sign of relief.

-

You grabbed Ghost by his mask and pulled him to you. Having the same devilish smirk you started with.

"He tried to get away Ghost, he tried so hard but I wouldn't let him, I stabbed him with the knife he stabbed me with."

Ghost was about to pull away but remembered, it'd be useless you'd only pull him back. He knows you get to worked up in telling a story.

-

Price nervously took a sip of tea, staring down at it as it swirled with the steam.

"He-....He used the knife to stab between his shoulder blades....before cutting his back open, all the way down to his lower back."

Gaz almost choked on his tea when he heard that. He pictured it to well, the thought made him wanna run away from this conversation.

-

Rudy looked down, legs and arms shaking slightly. Soap took notice of this.

"Y/n...he grabbed the sides of open flesh, and, oh my god... he ripped the shadow open like he was nothing."

Soap took a step back, horrified by what he heard. How, no, why? Why would you do that.

-

You pulled Ghost closer, now whispering in his ear, likely to keep this part a secret.

"I wanted to do worse Ghost, but instead I broke. Every. Fucking. Rib. He had, his screams only got louder."

Ghost eyes widen, realizing you met you had grabbed his bare ribs and snapped them all in half. Now Ghost has done some crazy things but this? It's on a while nother level.

-

Price rubbed his temples to calm himself.

"When he finished he, well killed him. With his foot"

Gaz had finished his tea by then. Still has that unsettling feeling.

-

Alejandro walked back over to Soap and grabbed his shoulder.

"Wondering how he killed a soldier with just his foot? Yeah? He stepped on him, well more like bashed."

Soap looked at Alejandros hand alittle nervous.

-

You chuckled darkly pushing yourself off of Ghost.

"I dropped my foot so hard, I still have his eye juices on my shoe"

Ghost gagged as you walked away laughing, the whole base could hear you. The ones who seen you kill that Shadow shivered remembering that laugh.

~

[A/n:I got lazy in the last part. But hear you have it. I hope you enjoyed]

☆*.｡How to request｡.*☆

It’s come to my attention that I haven’t made how to request things very clear so… here we are!

Please read this as well before requesting

Fandoms and who I’ll write for:

(I am working in trying to get other characters right, but I don’t feel like I have the characterisations yet, so I don’t wanna chance it)

Welcome Home

Wally Darling

Barnaby b. Beagle

Howdy Pillar

Eddie Dear

COD MW

Simon “Ghost” Riley

John “Soap” MacTavish

König

Captain Price

How to request-

Send me an ask with the characters you want, the emoji that corresponds with the theme, a general idea of what you want!

For example: “Wally Darling, 🌸, he notices the reader is sad and tries everything he can to comfort them”

!!!Attention!!!

I will ignore asks if they don’t have enough detail for me to write about. Please include at least a little detail, only giving a characters name will result in your request getting ignored :(

IM MELTING

his soft little grip on Riley's paw🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

gonna waterboard you with my pussy tonight you up for it?

Part 11! College!simon x reader. 🙊 god i can’t get enough of this—enjoy! Pls like comment & reblog because it means a lot to me.

Notes: slowburn, mutual pining, bit of angst, swearing as usual. slight smutty thoughts of reader.

Masterlist here ✉️

There you were, drunk and wobbling into Simons room. He left you no room to argue, and not that you would anyway, you were a spinning mess.

“Don’ touch that.” Simons gruff voice said, guiding it hand away from the lights of the room.

You scoffed out a laugh—chest rumbling. You were ahead of him, feet tripping over one another. Simon constantly had to angle your shoulders this way and that—so you wouldn’t fall.

“What? This your batcave or somethin’?” You slurred, now eyeing his somewhat dim room.

He had his lamp on, giving some light. Some of his clothes were layered on his desk. Most likely he was busy and unable to fold them away.

God, you felt tired. But the alcohol was still coursing through your veins. You decided to settle for sitting at his desk, torso facing Simon. This was becoming quite regular, visits to his room. Your cheeks were flushed and you were slightly sniffling from the cold.

“Jus’ prefer to keep it dim, yea?” Simon said lowly. He turned around once you sat—closing his door. He then advanced to his closet and leaned down, strong hands grappling at some blankets. With a huff, he spread the largest one on the floor, then another ontop, and slapped a pillow down.

“What—is that f’me?” You asked, perking up. You tilt your head at his motions.

Simon shakes his head and then walks over to you, beckoning for you to stand. You wobble, and glance around to his bed—then him. Your chests brushed slightly, but he remained at a distance, heavy eyes gazing into yours.

“No, you’re sleepin’ on the bed.” He ordered.

“Simon—“

“Don’t give me lip, aye?”

The brute huffs and you quirk your lip, looking down momentarily. His bed.

Was it odd? Two friends just stuck in this awkward situation, since your keys were lost.

You sigh, and then undo your jacket, resting it on the back of his chair.

Awkwardly, you shift and then climb up onto his bed. You could smell his cologne and scent mixed on the sheets. But you didn’t lay down, no you just sat up on your knees and thought to ask the most ridiculous question. Your eyes had this twinkle.

“D’you have makeup remover?”

Simon was just settling onto the makeshift bed, large form groaning. His hair was a mess, and he looked down—only for his eyes to snap up at you. He could see your shit eating grin—still drunk. He scoffed, the shaking his head boyishly.

“Do I look like the kind t’carry that?” He said, gruffly. He was amused at your state, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t.

He then sat up, and shifted so his torso faced you, hunched, elbows resting in his lap.

You could see in the dimness the way the light bounced off his pale skin, illuminating his pale lips, his eyes. His irises glowed despite the heavy look he always carried. His hair had grown out, tufts of hair sticking up. Did the man ever hear of a haircut?

“You look a mess.” You slurred, swinging so your legs hung off the edge of his bed. It squeaked and your hazy eyes gazed at him.

“You got a lotta’ tongue on ya, lass. Always like this when you’re drunk?” Simon quipped, languid eyes tracing over your form. You felt squirmy under his gaze—or maybe it was just the alcohol making your head swing.

You scoffed and curled your lip up, palms resting at the edge to steady yourself.

“Just sayin’ a haircut saves lives.”

Simon groaned and lowered his head into his palm, the long fingers grazing his forehead. He looked quite ready to quit the night—but it was a joke. He wasn’t actually tired, you could tell, by the way his lip tilted up momentarily.

“Ain’t it funny how y’er callin’ me a mess. And y’er all drunk.” Simon scoffed and looked at you, moving to stand up.

He approached your form sitting at the edge of his bed and grabbed from behind you—his sweater. You shifted and first didn’t even realize it was there.

Faulty neurons.

You gulped when you felt him standing so close—the pump of the alcohol doing nothing to soothe your nerves. You then looked up at him—catching him already staring with brooding eyes.

“Touché…got me there.”

“Go t’sleep. I ave’ class in the ass crack of dawn.” Simon muttered and then moved away, laying down on his blankets.

He shifted so his hands cradled his head, back on the blankets. But apart of you didn’t believe he really wanted to sleep—because he always stayed up. Since something seemed to haunt him at these hours.

You shifted as you gazed at him. Sometimes—you caught yourself wondering about his scars. You knew he was a Lieutenant, but what were the stories behind it?

Before you knew it the words tumbled out your mouth.

“Those…” You sucked in a breath. “Those scars…does it hurt?”

Simon stilled for a moment. His eyes that were once gazing at the ceiling, the small lamp shadowing his features—now his eyes looked over at your form.

He knew this was going to be a long night considering you weren’t sleeping.

“Not anymore, they’ve healed.” He said, although the words hung heavy.

He turned so he could face you, to your surprise. His elbow was propped up, holding his head up, eyes bleary and fatigued. It was racing to 2:30am—but nonetheless you felt this stirring feeling in you. A need to know.

“D’you…get it from the military?” You asked, voice lowered from the weight of asking. You wondered if he would open up. You shifted your weight and adjusted your sleeve—Simon watching.

“I got it from the missions—opps’ got me a few times.” Simon said a bit too casually, although eyes straying. He began to wonder back to the good old days, the searing hot pain of his wounds. The way it all went down, countless stories, and too little time to tell.

“That—that must’ve sucked.” You slurred, gazing at him wide eyed. There was concern in your gaze, as your hand stilled that was fixing your sleeve. The warmth in your gaze caught his attention, and he found himself staring a lot longer than necessary.

Before he knew it he grinned and scoffed, finding it somewhat amusing your casual words, “must’ve sucked,” to be intriguing.

More than just sucked, he thought.

Countless words floated in his head, as his finger tapped the blanket. After a pause, he then spoke up gruffly.

“You once asked why I was here.”

“Huh?”

“In university.” Simon specified, knowing you were close to losing more than one brain cell at this rate. Apart of him thought, it wouldn’t hurt to have said it.

You wouldn’t remember anyway, right? He figured he could just open up slightly, and then you’d probably wake up a mess. A mess. He quite liked the sound of that—then he pushed the thought away as soon as it came up.

He focused back to you.

He watched your form lay down on the bed now, legs folding up. Your head on his pillow—it did more than just rile him up. He found himself momentarily short circuiting, the way you just lay so comfortably as if having been there so many times.

As if this was your space.

As if you two had seen each other like this countless times.

Then, he began.

“I want to start over.” He found himself saying slowly, almost as if double checking himself. He swallowed roughly, tearing his gaze away from your laying form. He eyed the ceiling, forcing his gaze away from you.

His heart began to race—just the mere sight of you could do this. Shit.

“Start over…yeah. Sometimes it isn’t easy. You can’t just wipe the slate over.” You mumbled, head tilting to also gaze at the ceiling dizzily. At that, Simon found himself intrigued once again. God damnit. It was like you tugged at him, and then just when he thought it was fine, his attention tugged at you like a damned puppy.

He didn’t expect you to have sounded coherent despite the night. Maybe you were sobering up.

“You sound like you seen it all, lass.” Simon said, kore quietly now.

He could hear both your breathing and soon, your sloppy chuckle joined in. Soft, and airy. His heart lurched—and the stoic man found himself reeling.

Trying to maintain control, and trying to find ease.

“No—I’m sure you have…” You trailed off, sighing. Your lashes brushed your cheek, as your eyes shut. You felt like waves were washing over you, and you were floating admits the sea. And his voice was calming— soothing despite the usual gruff tone.

‘’Get some sleep, lovie.’’ Simon said, the nickname slipping. You would’ve been startled at the nickname, but sleep over came you.

——

The next few classes passed with a drag. You just finished from the gym—deciding to start some workout routine. You only went on the treadmill and could hear your friends voice in your ear: Don’t become one of those people who get stuck to it, along with her snort. You turned off the treadmill and glanced up at the tall windows, revealing the sunset of the cold November. You wiped some sweat from your forehead, all snug in a fitted black top and matching leggings, sneakers laced up.

Your phone rung and you found yourself reaching for it, brows furrowing. It was Johnny. He never called you, as he proffered to blow up the Molly’s group chat with memes and barrages of broken text.

‘’Hello? Johnny?’’ You say, somewhat amused.

A pause. There was a clank and Johnny answered with a chuckle.

‘’Uh—Lass? Think ya can handle a shift? Kyle called in sick—lads not here.’’

You glanced around the gym and moved to your bag, picking it up. ‘’On my way.’’

Today was your day off—Saturday but you figured you could use the extra pay.

Then you found yourself hobbling in the cold. Clutching your jacket—having changed into a black button up and jeans.

The bar was horribly busy. People ambled everywhere drunk and whistling. They were cheering and unionizing as someone chugged—and you found yourself used to the antics.

You hastily unfastened your jacket, bumping into some guy—who mumbled an apology. You hung your jacket up, striding behind the counter and meeting Johnny and Priced who was cooking. Johnny flambé the vegetables—jostling the pan expertly back and forth, sweating.

Price was working up a fit, seasoning the chicken breast freshly cut— eyes meeting yours.

‘’Recruit, get over here.’’ Price grumbled, although a hint of warmth in his tone.

“Where do you need me?”

‘’You better hope you’re good with a knife.” Price grinned at you, seeing as you then turned to grab it from the stand. The blade gleamed and you chuckled amused.

“The things I can do.” You winked, playfully.

Price chuckled heartily.

Sometimes as you worked, you caught eyes with Simon who eventually came in. Memories of the night he took care of you—vividly flashed in your mind. You hadn’t said a word to him since, which he found odd.

He then thought you probably needed space, but from what?

You knew what it was.

Your feelings were eating you up. The way he spoke, his scent, his jokes. The way you two seamlessly got along, only to sometimes butt heads at work when your schedules didn’t align. He was something that surrounded you non stop.

The way he opened up just a bit about his past had you wanting to know more. More of his past, who he was. The things he faced.

But it scared you. It terrified you. These feelings. The change.

It suddenly became more than just, “a passing,” between the two of you.

As the shift ended—nearing 2am, you were absolutely exhausted. You groaned and walked to your dorm building, hiking up the path. It was quiet, a striking contrast from the busy bar with all the shouting. You sure as hell were going to be paid in full, that’s what.

‘’Lass—‘’ Someone called out to you.

Turning around as you recognized the voice, you widened your ears to see Simon jogging up.

He wore some dark wash jeans, a hoodie pulled over his head, and his rugged face shadowed. He grabbed your wrist—to your surprise, and you flushed at his touch. It was easy to blame it on the biting cold. Your eyes met his as he slapped his tips into your hands.

If it was even possible, your heart melted more.

‘’For house keeping.’’ Simon gruffly said, shoving his cold hands in his sweater pockets, looming over you. He was close to you, shifting his weight onto one leg.

‘’You didn’t have to—‘’

‘’Don’ go back on y’er word.’’ He scoffed down at you, slightly smirking, ‘’Remember I owed ya for that shift.’’

Nodding, you swallowed. You glanced up at him, unspoken words lingering in the air. Your breath caught in the cold, and flashes of the night being drunk, smelling his pillow and the sheets crossed your mind.

You swore you could still smell it.

Behind him cars drove and neon lights flickered from the store fronts, his eyes not leaving yours.

Get some sleep, lovie.

It echoed in your mind and you gazed up at him. Your nose was red and cheeks too, hair blowing slightly in the wind.

“Ya look tired.” Simon said, cutting through the air.

“Of course. Its 2am.” You scoffed, moving your eyes off of him. You turned around, huddling to keep warm and continued your trek up.

Simon knew that night weighed on your mind. He wasn’t sure if it was right time to talk about it, being that it was 2am. You both were tired and fatigued, and his eyes drooped more than usual.

He sighed, tapping a finger against his thigh—before deciding to follow you. His boots thudded and the brute needed to talk. Needed to get it out.

To see you again.

‘’Y/N.’’

You froze and your heart pounded.

Slowly you turned around and faced him, close to your dorm entrance.

‘’What is it? I need to get inside its cold—‘’

He gave you no room to respond and scanned his ID. He followed you inside, starring holes in your back.

‘’You’ve been avoidin’ me.’’ He started, coming right in tow behind as you met your room. You bit your lip, reaching for your key replacement.

‘’I’ve just been busy—‘’

‘’I know.’’ He said, although calmer. Warmer, almost.

You turn your head to him. Regrettably, you spoke, ‘’Look, I gotta sleep. I’ll see you, yeah?’’ You didn’t want to cut the conversation short—but it was late. And you had other pressing matters to attend to. Like becoming a couch potato and daydreaming about him.

Damn it, Simon thought with a frustrated sigh as he watched you leave with a certain kind of irritation, and longing in his eyes. Almost like he didn’t want you to go. His eyes tracked you as you went in, closing the door.

Even the sound of it felt harsh.

That night he didn’t sleep, as usual. But not because he found the usual horrors of his past haunting—but because you, the nightmare of a woman was haunting his mind.

A pleasant nightmare.

He scoffed, shaking his head.

——

“We need to talk.” Simon said gruffly, the next day at your shift. You were leaning on the bar counter, weight on one leg, shoulders shrugged in concentration. His eyes couldn’t stop staring at your figure, the way the jeans hugged in all the right places, and the shirt.

He happened to be leaning on the archway of the kitchen, Johnny Price and Kyle working like mad hens behind him.

Damn it. He needed to stay focused.

You ‘re at the POS system, punching in an order and then you threw a glance at the Brit.

“Is it work related?” You say, a bit too stiff for his liking.

“No.”

You tap your finger at the side of the system and sigh, then turn. Your lower back leans against the bar counter, and you eye Simon. Your arms are crossed.

“Make it quick.”

Simon grunted. He could think of something else considered quick—

He shut himself up, shifting against the wall, and crossing his arms. The muscles flexed as rugged eyes stared you down. You felt like you were shrinking under his gaze if it were even possible.

“Why did you run off to your room?”

“I didn’t.”

“You did.” He persisted in that damned accent.

“I—“

Simon crossed the floor in an instant and ushered you aside—a hand on your arm. You bristled and swallowed, as Simon pushed you into the janitors closet.

Shit, Johnny was going to start asking around for us soon, you thought. You crossed your arms, head tilted up to the Brit, waiting for his response.

He shut the door of the closet and his boots thudded when he turned to face you, leaning in. All of a sudden that frustrated dissipated—being replaced by an unknown feeling. His cologne surrounded you, just like that night in his bed. You unconsciously took a whiff, and then gripped your arms tightly.

The hell was he doing?

“Lass,” he breathed out, now eyeing you, he then saw you clenching your arms and leaned in more, a hand raising to rest by your head, caging you in.

The shadows of the closet shaded his eyes—you couldn’t see what was behind them.

“Y/N.” He said when you didn’t respond—causing your eyes to snap to his. How could you respond? Suddenly both your chest were pressing against each other, and you breathed heavily, heart hammering.

“Simon, I said make it quick.”

Again, the way you said it. This time he groaned audibly, his hoodie straining from the angle as he leaned forward for eye you, leaving you nowhere to run.

“I need to know why you’re avoiding me, lass.” He repeated, firmly. His shadowed eyes never left yours, the sight of his lips moving made your heart pitter patter.

You took a breath to still yourself.

“I’m sorry—ever since that night…” You froze, realizing how this was coming across. Romantic, maybe? Were you actually beginning to open up? Fuck.

You sweat and shifted on your feet, swallowing.

“Ever since the night you were drunk?” He picked up, brows furrowing.

“Yeah, that…I just…well no before—“ Your breath hitched and the closet room spun. You swallowed thickly, sweating a bit and now your eyes darted everywhere but him. But his big broad chest blocked the exit—behind him.

“Before what?” There it was again. That thick, barrel smooth voice. Your eyes met his and you nodded, going silent. For a second it was you and him, just gazing and hearing the loud buzzing of the bar.

Before, I caught feelings.

“Why did you drag me in here?” Now you demanded, keeping your voice down. You eagerly looked up at him, brows furrowed and lips pressed firmly.

You were getting uncomfortable by your own feelings, and it was rolling off of you in waves. Irritated at his constant demands.

Irritated at your own inability to just say it.

Simon scoffed, his breath hitting your face softly. You swallowed.

“Only way to get you alone.” He admitted, the words rolling out smoothly. His eyes roamed all over you, taking in the defensive look you had, arms crossed, tight. That pinch between your brow—but if anything he found it endearing. He had gotten used to this side of you, so it was no surprise.

Right. You mentally face palmed. Of course that’s why he brought me in here, you thought.

You shifted your gaze away to which he noticed and Simon felt a kick to his stomach. He saw the frown—the way you lowered your head to avoid him. He stiffened up, brows raising slightly.

Suddenly, he withdrew and dropped his hunky arm to his side.

“Don’t tell me I made you uncomfortable.” He said, surprisingly with a shake to his voice. The tremor was slight, and he sounded almost hesitant.

Your eyes widened and you realized he misunderstood. Your stomach dropped and inwardly you cursed. Bloody hell—

“No—Simon—“

“Lass, you can always tell me.” Simon reminded, his hand gripping into a fist. He didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, and now his lips pressed thin, nostrils flaring.

“Simon—“ You said again.

“I’ll be outta’ your way.”

He went to turn to open the door but in an instant, you lunged.

You don’t know what came over you, but your lips captured his—hands flying to angle his head to meet yours.

Maybe it was the need to communicate how you really felt.

Maybe it was the frustration of being misunderstood. Or all of it.

You could feel how tensed up under you, not expecting the kiss at first. Then his fingers twitched with life, his heart pounding with vigor.

And then, his lips moved—almost hesitant to test the waters even though you kissed him first.

Soon—your back was to the wall of the small closet as his hands roamed, clutching gently at the fabric of your shirt. His hands rested on your waist, holding you and eyes shut, kissing slowly. He was drinking you in—your sounds, your taste, your smell.

Your heart was hammering and with the way you were pressed against his, his was too.

“God—“ You pulled away, panting softly. Your eyes met his.

You sucked in air sharply at the sight.

Simons eyes were ferocious, a bit of hunger, desire and longing in his darker eyes. He panted softly, fingers tightening slightly on your waist so you wouldn’t run—and his nose brushed yours.

His voice came out low, hushed, as his breath fanned your cheek. “You ave’ no idea how long I’ve been needing that.”

Operation: Unforgettable

The tension (Price x Reader)

hey lovies guess who’s back with a new fic 🫠 undercover agent (you) x price. Excited for this!! Smut scenes & smexy thoughts, so you know the drill. MDNI. no y/n, fem pronouns, reader is legal age. Mentions of guns, fighting, occasional swearing, possessive!price. Probably inaccurate military info 😭 also reader might have a death wish—always giving snarky comments to sir price.

also: venue described here is made up, not part of the cod storyline. Just to add some extra details and difference in the story :) some things might be inaccurate pls dont come for my soul 🙏🏻 side character- Qattara Ali. Not relevant to the cod storyline.

“We know they’ll be meetin’ here at evening.” Price said gruffly to the rest of the team, before slapping down a manilla folder. On it was Makarovs’ mug shot, shadowed face and head tipped low, so his dark and primal eyes sent daggers into you. No matter the stare—you remained firm, despite the uncomfortable roll in your stomach.

The briefing room was bright with fluorescent lights to drive anyone mad—glass tables shining enough to see past any weak agent.

And that—that was not you. Nor was it anyone on this team. Johnny, Simon, and Kyle stood beside your form, behind the table. Despite his usual jokester appearance—Johnny lips were pressed thin and hand rested on his strap, fingers curled with ease on his gun. He didn’t discard of his gear as of yet.

“Ain’t that a nice venue.” Kyle said, brows furrowed harshly. Though he commented on the venue, his voice was humorless. He was an efficient, focused and driven man.

The venue was indeed beautiful. A tall beige terracotta building with a stunning terrace opening to the mountains rising in the distance. Golden warm lights lit the palace, like fountains opening up to scatter golden rays. Aged stone wrapped the columns. Arabesque arched doorways lined the front, along with windowed wooden lattices, accenting the structure. The designs were so beautifully intricate, it nearly made you forget about the danger of the mission.

“Laswell will be accompanying us. She’ll be our eyes and ears outside.” Price said.

Time was ticking and tension grew up the air thick—something we as a team got used to. But when the feeling hit that something wasn’t right, that something was going to go sideways, that was a feeling we’d never forget.

Simons’ heavy eyes flickered to Kyle, before meeting Price with a subtle nod. He shifted his weight on his boots. We got em, the bastards.” His strong Manchester accent was smooth.

When you first joined it was hard to understand him, as well as Johnny. But you caught on quickly, your ears were used to the sounds and how they stressed the syllables, being that you learned a few languages yourself out of necessity.

His gear jostled yet he remained at ease despite the heaviness.

Your eyes roamed all over his balaclava—this one covered everything, leaving only his eyes showing. Menacing.

Apart of you were curious to see what he would look like under it. Since coming here—the brute never took it off. You tapped a finger against your clothed arm, tight compression shirt hugging your form. The weight of your gear belt hung low on you, and you glanced at it.

Suddenly Prices’ voice cut through the air like a knife.

“Agent, are you ready to act as our bait?” His gruff voice made your eyes snap to his. He was without his hat, arms extended as he leaned over the glass table—head lowered to send a look to you. His lips were pressed thinly in focus, the folder beside him.

The team awaited your response, eyes tracking towards you. Simon appeared firm, Johnny looked concerned—maybe for your wellbeing. And Kyle looked confident, after all he trusted in your abilities.

You watched Price, swallowing.

Agent.

That’s not what he called you last night in bed.

You nodded firmly, ignoring the warmth that flood in your stomach from the thought. An impulsive thought. Things like that came and went recently, because now you found yourself in a sticky situation with your captain.

You could remember faintly the harsh breathing, the smell of his sweat mixed with cologne as he pushed you up against the wall—hands greedily groping at your clothes. He tore them off to the floor, just before you landed on the bed, bouncing from the recoil.

“Yes, sir.” You say, sucking in a breath. You turn hot on your heels at his dismissal—and Johnny eases up.

He comes to your side and follows you out to the armory, grinning like a cat. His boots thud loudly down the hall, of course aiming to disturb any sleeping recruits at this hour. No one would sleep because of him.

“This one’s no different, lass.” He said, mentioning the mission. His sharp eyes remained on you. His concern faltered a bit and he returned to his usual chipper self.

“Don’t have to tell me.” You mumbled, combat boots thudding down the hallway.

You turned into the armory and stood by the locker, grasping at your gun before reloading it.

“Ya’ looked a little worried there.” Johnny teased and you wonder if he noticed that dazed look to your face when Price spoke to you.

You push the thought away—needing to focus. You couldn’t have any of the team knowing, it would only complicate everything further. This little game you and Price started needed to stay hidden. Apart of you liked the secrecy anyway.

The idea of it being forbidden, hidden, and private drove you feral.

But so did being out in the open and him claiming you as his.

You grabbed your thigh holster from the table and raise a brow at Johnny, quick to put the safety on. Although you were tempted to leave it off to mess with him.

Your lip tilted up slightly, responding to him. “Worried if you would jeopardize the mission.”

He watches in amusement, busying himself with strapping a gun around his waist. His back faced you, muscles stretching and rippling.

“Admit it, lass. You dream of being with me.”

With that, he winked.

You rolled your eyes and now broke out in a grin. You walked to the exit of the armory and held your hefty gun—thigh strap in the other. You shot him a glance before walking off—leaving Johnny flustered and rubbing his neck.

Tonight you were the bait. You knew in your line of work—this would eventually happen. To try and soothe the nerves you breathed out, and then grasped at the dress in your bunker room. You needed to look exceptional tonight. No room for sloppiness. This was a high rank venue.

The dress was a stunning crimson red on your form. It had a dangerous slit. Your curves were snatched—and in your purse was your gun. You cleared your throat—checking your bombshell hair for any fly aways. You fixed it and then your mind wandered back to Price. What was going to be his reaction? You wondered—feeling that familiar ache between your legs and that excitement bubble in your chest.

“The mans in for a proper teasing.” You say to yourself, scoffing and grinning. You knew you had him in a chokehold.

You grab at your heels from under your bed—fancy black and red Loboutins. God. It would look absolutely stunning in the night. Sexy. You slipped them on with ease and stood taller, eyeing yourself like you were the most captivating thing in the room. Of course you were.

“Of course I’ll buy it for you. Need t’sell the look, yea?” You remember Prices’ words. That day, Price caught you red dress in hand, scrolling on your phone from just having shopped. He caught your arm before you bumped into him and said—“You need a nice pair of heels.”

It echoed in your mind—cheeks warming. You brushed your palms over the silk material of the dress and swallow, turning to look at the door.

It’s just sex, you remind yourself. A good hot fuck with the Captain. You didn’t need to fuck your way to the top either—you were an exceptional Agent. But sometimes—just sometimes the things he’d say or do had you freezing. Shuddering. Stammering to speak.

Especially when he bought the heels giving no mind to it, as if it were a regular occurrence. And the way he were able to switch to the cold, obscure Price in the briefing rooms, to greedy, hungry and desperate in the room with you. Craving you. Chanting your name and consumed by you completely.

And then, only to give you that look in the briefing room as if nothing had been going on.

“Talent.” You murmur and angle your torso to slip out the room—sinful heels clacking down the hallway to prepare to leave. You clutch your purse, red nails glinting in the light.

Just then—you hear murmuring and speaking. Laughter from Johnny—you recognized the Scotsman a mile away. Of course he stood, motioning to his phone whilst Simon stood beside him.

“D’ya see this picture? Look will ya? They made tiny characters of us! Tiny!” He exclaimed.

“The hell is tha’? Tumblr?” Simon spoke gruffly, although disinterested.

He rolled his eyes, a hand resting on his belt when he heard heels clacking.

Price’s head picked up as well at the noise, back turned to face the huge glass windows of the sunset. He adjusted his tie and turned around—a brow cocked. A hand still rested on his tie but froze.

There you were—in all your glory. Hair done up to the nines, smokey eyeliner to accentuate the color and shape of your eyes. Lips red enough like blood.

The lot of them were left speechless.

Meanwhile, Price wore the darkest suit jacket he could find, ironed bone straight. His tie matched, so did his button up. His hair was slicked back neatly, revealing sharp, icy eyes. His dress shoes glinted daringly in the light above. He smelled of aftershave.

Johnny wore an unbuttoned black shirt, tight chino pants and a belt. A belt that screamed luxury. His jacket was draped over his arm. The black only emphasized the rich color of his eyes, and went perfectly well with his devilish grin.

It was silent until Johnny spoke first, “Fuckin’ hell lass, if ya took a swing at me with them heels I’d say thank ye.”

Meanwhile, Kyle hid something behind his back—his charcoal eyes sticking to your face and smiling softly. The man was humble and respectful towards you and you found yourself appreciative of his presence.

Simons’ eyes never left yours—lips pressed flat. You could see more of his eyes and nose bridge with his simple balaclava mask. He was impressed by your ability to clean up. But even more so impressed by how you carried yourself tonight. He decided to wear a heavy suit jacket, white undershirt and a black tie. Simple. Elegant. Golden cuff links.

Price’s thicker fingers worked his tie, then shifted it—chin tilted up in approval at what you wore. On the surface he tried to remain professional, but his body language betrayed him. His eyes roamed hungrily over your curves, down to the way those heels slipped perfectly on your feet, the ones he got you, and the way your eyes were done dark.

Intimidating. Like a prowess.

And the way you leaned on the wall, a shoulder bracing. Arms crossed loosely and eyeing the team.

He liked a challenge. His heart was hammering when he heard you speak, smirking and moving away to walk to Johnny. Every click of those heels made him imagine what it would be like for you to walk to him instead—

“Only thing I’m looking to beat is this mission.” Your voice cut through, ringing perfectly in the air. You then walked past the team—their surprised looks not going unnoticed by Price.

How he wanted to claim you right then there. To show you, you only belonged to him. Was it selfish of him? To want you so bad that he felt like hiding you from the team? From the crowd itself at the venue? He stiffened up at the thoughts running through his head.

Oh yes, he knew there would be a lot of men eyeing you up tonight. Price was no stupid fool, he knew most would be thinking with their half inched cocks, raving about a beautiful, empress you were. What they didn’t know is you were a skilled, talented Agent.

That made him bristle with satisfaction, knowing you had power.

And he knew you’d handle it. If anyone made a move, he had full faith in the Agent you were to manhandle their ass.

Kyle whistled lowly and followed out, looking quite dapper in his suit himself. He went for more of a romantic look. A black v-neck vest, biceps straining under the white button up he wore. Crisp and smooth.

As you loaded up in the limo first, you efficiently swung your legs over, sitting by the corner. You couldn’t have your hoo-ha showing to everyone. Johnny managed to snag a nice limo for the team, saying something about it being our last time and joking.

You had to admit—it was decked out.

You poured yourself a shot, earning a look from Simon who sat across from you. His broader form took over two seats.

“What a fatass.” You couldn’t resist the joke, red lips curling up deviously.

Simon grew used to your teasing and the brutes’ chest rumble, a low chuckle leaving him. He wore his simple balaclava mask, nose bridge showing and more area around his eyes. He grasped for the shot glass too, knocking it back.

“Gonna need more of these, aye?” He spoke gruffly. You had a feeling there was more to it than a joke.

Johnny then climbed in, slamming next you. His arms brushed yours and you weren’t surprised by his lack of personal space. The man was stuck in cloud nine half the time, except when he was on missions.

You took it as him needing to power off his brain.

“Move over.” You groaned and shifted so you weren’t so pressed against Johnny. He snorted and of course made no room to move at all, the heavy man not budging. He rolled his eyes.

Price sat next to Simon, and Kyle followed next to Johnny. It suddenly smelled of cologne and aftershave in the limo as it drove off. Your head was dizzy from it, and you looked out the window—as Johnny and Kyle worked their way to drink shots.

From here Price could have a good view of you, you realized. He looked hot, you admitted. Would’ve been better if he wore a red tie to match with me, you thought. God, the idea had you shaking in your seat slightly. The thought, lips and dress matching his tie as if you two were something more—

More? You froze and watched as the limo zipped past trees and the golden sun kissed the leaves.

Not “more.” It shouldn’t be.

It was only sex, you reminded yourself.

“Hey, I got you something.” Kyle suddenly said, cutting through your thoughts. The men looked over and Johnny sighed at the burn of whiskey—obviously enjoying his rounds.

Price murmured to him, “Don’t over do it.” His stern eyes tracked the drink and then his face.

“Ye know I won’t.” Johnny brushed off the staring gaze of Price who squinted ever so slightly at him for dismissing him. He then watched as Kyle reached around and whipped out a small bouquet of roses, grinning ear to ear.

You widened your eyes at the scene, Simon nearly sputtered out his drink. He then composed himself.

“Kyle, what is that—“ you go to ask.

“I got you a flower. You once said roses were your favorite, remember?” Kyle said, and plucked one from the small bouquet.

Johnny watched, having to flatten his chest, when Kyle leaned over. His brows raised as Kyle handed you the rose.

You held it carefully, unsure of what to do with it. Your wide eyes tracked him, the way he leaned forward, chin tilted down to give you that charming look of a knight.

“Alright, alright, more of that and I’ll puke.” You teased. That earned a laugh from Kyle and Johnny.

As you held the rose with a soft smile on your dark lips, Price watched. Occasionally he’d flicker his gaze away, and ahead, but his eyes kept moving to how you reacted to the rose.

——

Finally arriving at the beautiful venue—your heels clack against the pavement. The venue looked even more breathtaking in front of your eyes as it stood massively. You had to tilt your head up just to get a good look. Immediately, you note the entrances and two armed guards standing there, comms in their ears for easy communication. Most likely undercover Konni soliders.

You adjust yours and then turn to your team who were behind you. Simon adjusted his cuff link, languid eyes cutting through the crowd sternly.

Johnny pulled on his suit jacket, giving it a firm tug.

Kyle passed along the bouquet to a beautiful woman, although he made sure to fix it so one rose wasn’t missing. Cheeky.

“Alright, comms on, no funny business.” You say in a hushed tone to them, although teasingly. Although you had a feeling you’d be in the funny business tonight. More ways than one.

Price is the last to step out. He closed the limo door, and straightens his jacket. The sight almost has your mouth watering hut you remained focused. Your heart beats firmly in your chest, a sign of your determination to track down Makarov.

But Simons’ voice pulls you back.

“Got it, lady.” Simon spoke gruffly, his eyes peering into yours momentarily.

“Dinna ave’ to tell me.” Johnny grinned wolfishly and you roll your eyes.

Price nods and you’re up ahead walking, although feeling multiple eyes bore holes into you from behind. Nonetheless you don’t waver, you continue head raised high and confidence in your stride. Approaching the venue—you pull out your RSVP card under a name Qatarra Ali.

It wasn’t your real name no. In fact, you’d taken her spot and filled its vacancy. More like, Laswells team found her and interrogated her. The meeting was to ensure the delivery of the arms. Trafficking arms to make money—which helps support the war—real interesting, Makarov.

Now, it was business time.

Or should you say, time to buzz around and flirt.

You enter in the venue immediately after their approval, and so the rest of the team gets checked as well. You’re left to eye all the exits and entrances slyly whilst nursing a white wine—Pinot Grigio. The liquid is sweet and has a perfect blend bitterness to it.

It wasn’t overwhelming along with the massive crowd of people. They’re all dressed like novelty, royal. Somewhere in here—hidden in the masses were Makraovs’ people. And what better way to hide their arms trafficking than to join a massive venue, and scamper off?

You scoffed and leaned against the bar, sultry eyes darting around the room. Price makes his way in first, you see. His head is tilted, never keeping his back turned from the guards, so does the test of the men one by one. Coming in hot and ready to party.

“You already found a drink. Good blending in.” Price says, murmuring as he approaches your languid form at the bar. One leg bent, your weight onto your other, and holding your flute. You don’t miss the way his eyes roam over you hungrily.

You grin—figuring you could let go of your stoic persona for the night. Price surveys the dancing and swaying crowd, and then looks to you, “Gotta be a civilian, yea? This is what they do, hm?”

You snicker and Johnny, Kyle and Simon take their positions around various exits around the venue to keep eye. You and Price were scoping the main hall now.

At that, the hunk finds his lip tilting up in a grin. His eyes had years of exhaustion and the wrinkled all too much describes his story—yet moments like this highlighted his charisma. His pull. It was attractive to see his face light up and his eyes dance around you shamelessly.

Price then leaned in, a hand reaching forward and brushing yours as he took the flute. He didn’t have to lower his voice because the baroque music was enough to cover it, “If I recall, civvies dance.” Then he took a sip of your drink.

God, the movement had your stomach fluttering and shaking. Those lips had been in places hidden—under the dress specifically. Apart of you ached to feel it again.

Your eyes sparkle—only to dissipate as for a moment you contemplate it. Now unease settled and you looked away, ignoring the dull ache in your stomach. Was it too intimate? Too much? Your heart rate pittered and pattered, eyes darting around the venue before landing on his.

He seemed to sense your uncertainty before leaning in and whispering, lips brushing your ear in a way that sent electricity down your spine. God, this man was making moves subtlety yet enough to inspire devious thoughts. You shudder—to which he makes a low sound.

It vibrated through you.

“We need to blend in for the night. Focus.” Price said, although his words weighed heavy with a sense of desire and arousal.

You pull away, eyeing his face and then deciding to play along with him. You grasped your flute again. This man truly had no idea what he signed up for—because in your time, your day, you picked up a few skills for dancing and sure as hell were not going to back down tonight. With the rest of the team scattered—Price turns on his comm.

So do you. But both of you would have to keep it under wraps as to not drop hints. You slip your hand in his larger rough ones—the action feels vulnerable, almost as if he was entrusted to hold you. You shove the feeling away as he takes you to the dance floor. He’s massive and intimidating, and people immediately move aside to make way for you both. You find yourself blushing at the sight.

Amongst others, you place your hands on his broad shoulders and lean in, eyes flickering up to his dark suit jacket sleeves, arm, shoulder and the curve of his strong jaw.

“We’re doing a good job of blending in.” You say, murmuring. Your breath fans across his face to which Price tilts his head down to scan your features. As if taking with him the way your sultry eyes bore into his, eating him from the inside and out, it made him shudder. And those red glistening lips.

He wanted it somewhere else.

So then, he leaned in, eyes scanning the crowd and brows raised. He swiftly checked for any arms or signs of personnel, but whispered in the meantime, “Soon we wouldn’t have to blend in.”

At that your head spins and you steady yourself. You suck in a breath at his casual teasing—but you know there isn’t anything casual about it. Because it’s happened more than once. And now you both can’t stop coming back.

You lean back, his hand flying gently to rest at the curve of your lower back to keep you there. The skin warms beneath the dress and you both sway, his arms holding you.

The movments and sway of your hips catch his attention. It swayed easily with the rhythm and beat, something he didn’t know you had in you. His eyes remained captivated lower, before meeting your gaze with a stronger hold on your waist. He pulled you in, so you were flushed to his chest.

Your breath hitches and you have nowhere else to look but him. The tension was growing hotter, and you can feel gazes of people on you. But apart of you didn’t mind. You liked this, when other people knew you had a hold on him.

You undulate your hips, almost a little too heated for him and he stiffened up. Your front catches his—and you feel the belt brush your stomach. He tightens his grip, and gives you a look. His eyes were shadowed with intensity, fingers grasping tight at the thin material of the dress.

As a warning, he leaned in and rolled his hips again—causing you to shudder and gasp involuntarily.

“Focus.” His voice was gravelly and low, moving away now. You miss his body heat. He wasn’t as pressed up to you, but nonetheless you two waltzed.

“Six—we got company. North of the terrace, a few men just walked in with a smoke.” Kyles’ voice broke through the line and you remained swaying to not disturb the moment.

“Watcher 1, any visual on the terrace?” Price commands, holding you. His gaze moves from your form to the hall which he sweeps.

“Got eyes. Moving.” Laswell responds.

You glance up at Price who responds, “Copy that.”

“Approaching the balcony stairs, coming down to your left.” Kyle reports, now filling you both in on their position.

“On sight, 2-6. I have eyes on three suspects.” You reply firmly.

You then tilt your head, swinging so Price’s back faced the three men whilst you gave a cunning once over. They were armed beneath their suit jackets, dressed to the nines. They came down the stairs sweeping their eyes around the room.

Price didn’t like his back facing them, basic military training purposes—and spun you efficiently so you faced the bar. Your back was to his chest so both of you could ID them. Smooth.

“Suspect carrying a glock, possibly all three are. Konni soldiers by the sound of it.” Price reports, murmuring against your hair. Your heart is pounding at the intimacy of the embrace—but remained focused on the sight ahead.

Can’t get carried away.

“Copy that.” Simon responds along with the other men. “On standby.”

“7-1, position?”

“Standby.” Johnny responds.

“One seems to be the leader.” You spoke, seeing as one man strode forward ahead whilst the two followed behind. “5’7, lean, around 190 pounds. Tattoo on his neck depicting a cross.”

After describing the pack leader, both you and Price already have it fleshed out. You stay on the dance floor. Price then maneuvers to the bar. His back faces you momentarily as you check out the main hall, holding your purse. You remain vigilant and alert.

Soon he turns around with a lip lifted and holding two flutes once more, despite the situation. He leans in to you, breath ghosting your ear. “Try not to get too high.”

You’re tempted to say something, but the comm lines are open. So you wrap your slender fingers around the flute and eye him, not missing the way he tips his head low, almost telling you to behave. You shudder.

“Eyes on them.”

He watches as you turn your back to the bar and raise the flute to your stained lips, eyes set on the Konni men who shook hands with an elder, prestigious man.

“Would’ta been so bad aye? If we dinnae ave’ to deal with the mission.” Johnny snorts over the line.

Price resists the urge to roll his eyes, and leans against the bar beside you, elbows digging into the counter. His suit stretched over his wide chest, accommodating for the larger build he had.

“Keep the line clean.” Price mutters as he sips his wine. You follow as well, and smirk, knowing damn well Johnny was no “clean” and pure minded soul.

“Jus’ makin’ a conversation, cap.” You could hear his voice dripping with amusement.

“I can hear your incel thoughts a mile away, Johnny. Don’t even.” Kyle snorts and you can imagine the arms crossed and the way he’d rub his nose bridge in mock irritation.

You smile at the thought and Price glances at you, switching the comm off.

He motions for you to do the same.

“We can’t, not when there’s Konni soliders around.” You whisper.

“For a second.” He murmurs and turns to you. You turn off your comm.

His torso angles, and you find yourself doing the same, eyes meeting his beneath your lashes. You hold your flute. It almost feels like an intimate conversation—but you remain focused on the soldiers in your peripheral.

“I didn’t know you liked roses.” Price said, leaning in and his lips brushed your ear. You nearly closed your eyes at the feeling once more and backed up slightly. You can’t have yourself working a mess in your panties already.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” You say, lowly. There’s a certain edge to your tone, slightly flirtatious and the other ominous. It only pulls Price in more and he tips his chin down to get a good look at you in your eyes, leaving you vulnerable and exposed in his gaze. He’s aware he doesn’t know much, other than your tactical skills, your presence in team 141, and well, your other skills in bed. He couldn’t resist the tease as he spoke.

“Oh, but I know what makes you go all dumb in bed. That much I do know.” He whispers and his breath ghosts all over your face.

At that, you widen your eyes and gaze at him, straightening up.

But apart of him feels the need to know more beyond the bedroom activities. But was he going to cross the line to something more intimate? Most definitely not here, nor at this time.

“You’re distracting me.” You hiss and turn your body to the Konni who appears to be engaged in a lengthy conversation with the prestigious man.

Price smirks, knowing full on exactly what he’s doing. If anything he finds himself unashamedly admitting to it, “I can’t help it. A man like me sees a gorgeous woman like you by herself tonight. Just imagine what it does to me.”

You snort unceremoniously, and resist the urge to roll your eyes. You glance at Price, already seeing his hungry gaze on you.

“Keep it in your pants, will you?” Although you’d very much prefer it out.

Price takes a last sip before sighing out his nose, glancing at the crowd. Then he slides his gaze to you, head tilted and watching you with a sense of curiosity at your words. Almost as if you’re his precious prey—and your snarky comments press him further. “Darlin’ if you haven’t noticed, I’m a man.”

“I can handle it.” He whispered in your ear again, and you couldn’t hold back the shudder and gasp. The sheer volume in his words sent a thrill straight to your core and you grip the flute, which was empty.

He takes it and rests it on the bar side and switched his comm on before you could say more.

Damn bastard.

You scoffed and eyed him, the way his gaze casually wondered off as if he hadn’t said anything implying filth. A habit of his. There’s a flash of irritation arising in you and desire. It burns in you waiting for a spark. It slowly eats away inside you, begging to be fed more.

You switch your comms on, his eyes sneakily gliding over to the way your hands move. Almost as if replaying a memory. He nearly groans at the way you move your bouncy hair aside, the tendrils curling delicately.

“Eyes on them, not me.” You then say, shooting him a cheeky wink.

You hear Johnny laugh—and Price watched you with a sense of admiration and slight amusement. He then spoke up gruffly.

“I can guarantee you, even if I did look at em’ my eyes would be right back on ya, sweets.”

Shit.

Your eyes widened and you looked at him, nearly sputtering on your spit. Fuck.

“Can ya’ll get a room already?” Kyle groans, and Price shoots you a look before gesturing at the area behind you to pay attention to the Konni soldiers.

“For once I agree with the lad, Garrick.” Johnny chuckles.

Simon is silent, probably disinterested in the whole spiel.

You’re very tempted to bark at him something intimate, but that’ll only cause issues—especially exposing something going on. Then again maybe the team suspected it.

So, you turn away diligently and laugh, although slightly bitter, “Seems like someone can’t get it on with anyone else, so he’s going after what’s easy.”

“Shit lass.” Johnny whistles, amused.

“Remind me to use that one.” Kyle chuckled.

Price narrows his eyes at the side of your head, jaw setting. Irritation flares in him and he puffs his chest out to breathe in, and you? You just remain there, eyeing the soldiers who disperse to talk to various people. You want in on their conversation, but Price and you are stuck in a sticky mess.

“You sayin’ you’re easy to get?” He then spoke up, not caring if the team had heard.

You snapped your head around to meet his.

“I—“

“Lass, you really got everyone on their toes, yea?” Johnny snickers before you could get a response in. Flustered, you crossed your arms and felt your cheeks burning. Damned him. Damned this mission. You shifted on your heels and Price took the advantage of grinning at you as if he won.

Oh no.

He was in for a whole tease.

Property of evanescencelovrr. do not modify, repost, or translate.

Operation: Unforgettable

The Craving (Price x Reader)

notes: MDNI, reader is legal age, no y/n, female pronouns, possessive!price, cursing, violence, smut scene, filthy thoughts. Mentions of a bomb. Pls enjoy! Id appreciate any feedback & your thoughts on this series. smut scene but no p in v.

Masterlist here

Of course there you were—getting around. A young charming man had whisked you away, although your focus was on the mission. You positioned yourself nearby the Konnis’ to listen in, swaying with the man who introduced himself as Alexander. Even as he waltzed with you, there was a disinterested look to your eyes and your head was tilted to the archway.

“Do let me know when you’re home.” The man muttered and your eyes snapped to his, in slight surprise.

“What? You look too good to not have.” He whispered in your ear, and instead of it electrifying you the way Price did—it made you pull away. Your mind wandered back to Price and you found yourself swallowing, processing how you felt.

“That I do.” I muttered, “But lay off the flirting, mm?” You hummed and he laughed, grinning. It seemed like he then eased up and then let go of you, his hands resting gently at your waist.

“You know, I’m not stupid. I can see how much he wants you.”

You scoff.

“Why don’t you both—“

“Both what?” You snort and Alexander grins. His teeth sparkles in the light and he guides you so your front faces Price. You met eyes with Price who was burning holes in Alexanders back, hand wrapped firmly on his flute. His head was tipped low to send a crude, intense stare. He was not pleased with you.

You could faintly see the gun peeking out under his suit and your legs wobbled.

“Tell me you don’t see it in his eyes.” Alexander huffed, and you furrowed your brows, struggling to maintain composure.

“What does it matter to you, you’re just a stranger.”

He laughed and his body shook. “I find myself needing to see what’ll happen next. For the plot.” He whispers in your ear and you tilt your head up to him, eyes meeting his chocolate brown ones.

He winks and you immediately catch onto the plan.

And that’s how Price ended up completely wrapped up by you. His gaze never wavering. He had half a mind to rip you off this Alex—whoever he was. At the same time he held himself back, not wanting to create a scene. But the more he watched the more his chest got tight and his blood pumped. He kept holding onto the fact that he wouldn’t make a move.

He couldn’t forget the way you and Alexander swayed too closely for his liking. And he knew you had moves. The same one you pulled on him, you were doing as well. Each circular movement of your hip made him nearly see stars. It only made him remember the way you rode him in bed, ontop and hair flowing down your shoulders in vivacious waves. How it brushed his cheek, the fat of your skin rippling as you moved back and forth harmoniously.

He watched the way the taller slender man grabbed more drinks for you, your red lips teasing the rim of the glass. And then your thinner hand slipped to grab his bicep, leading him to the floor.

How it burned in his gut to have held you instead. To feel those curves pressed against him again, and to trail his hand up and down, the way Alexander was doing. He clenched his jaw and the muscle jumped. To have your hand touching his bulging muscles instead, to feel your nails digging in from ecstasy and overstimulation.

“Another one.” Price muttered to the bartender. This time he got rid of the damned wine and went heavy. Whiskey, neat, half a glass.

He downed it, having shifted. The light obscured his intense gaze, leaving it darker. He no longer lounged against the bar but stood upright, a hand shoved in his pocket to hide his fist. Brooding. It was almost as if the person next to him had noticed and awkwardly glanced—before moving away.

The last straw was the way you leaned in, back facing Price. But he could see so clearly how your plump lips met Alexanders ear, a tongue swiping to lick.

Price nearly crushed the damned glass. His tie felt too tight and he found himself closing the distance on long legs, grabbing your arm in a swift move.

“Price—“

“Now.” He growled.

As he dragged you off the floor, your heels clicking, Alexander shot you an excited look and waved, brow raised. He then turned into the crowd and disappeared. Your wingman.

You huffed and nearly fell on your heels—your arm aching by the way he held it. Price brought past two doors and now it was secluded. He backed you against the foyer walls, although not wanting to hurt you, and towered over you—his breaths coming out in ragged exhaled.

“God, Price—“ You shuddered, eyes wide as you realized what you had done. The plan worked. But now you couldn’t pull away. There was still more to be done. You bit back a grin—a bit too bold for his liking, and tilted your head up, meeting his darkened gaze.

Did you have a death wish?

Under him, probably.

“The fuck did you think you were doing?” Price gritted out, nearly spitting. His leaned in sharply, shoes crowding yours as he pushed himself between your legs. His hips hit yours, and you sucked in a breath. The movement had your stomach quivering and tightening.

Your heart raced at the tension and bass in his voice. It reverberated through you like ripples, resting at your core where it clenched and unclenched. You shuddered under him.

“God help me, woman. I have a lot of patience. But that—that back there.” Price shuddered for a moment and inhaled through his nose, eyes shutting. He seemed to calm himself down and then looked down at you, a hand reaching up to tangle in your hair. It stroked the nape of your neck gently.

You’re surprised at his touch, softening slightly against the wall. You could tell he most certainly did not like that—no he despised of it. Seeing another man on you.

It excited you, to see him this way.

“What…? It was just a game.” You whisper and glance at his lips now. He knew exactly what you needed, what you conveyed through those hazy eyes.

Price clenched his teeth and his resolve snaps. Immediately he crashed his lips into yours, knocking your head against the wall. You have no time to protest before his veiny hand is yanking your hair back, demanding you tilt your head up to feed your breaths into his mouth. The kiss is nasty. Feral. Teeth nipping and his body weight drowning yours. His body heat surrounds you.

“Nasty, nasty girl. I think you need to be taught a lesson.” Price growls against your mouth—the words trickling down your throat like fire. It burns in your stomach and you shudder and grab at his biceps to steady your dizzy form from the euphoria and blood rush.

“I thought it was just sex. I thought you didn’t care.” You breathlessly say, lips swollen from his feverish kissing. Your lipstick smudged slightly and Price pulls his head back, gazing at you. His hungry eyes roam all over your face, taking in the sight of you all dazed and lit with arousal.

“We never agreed on there being anyone else. You get that?” He says lowly, grabbing your chin to make sure you understood.

Strange, you thought. He didn’t directly answer your question.

His hand in your hair releases and slides down the front of your throat, then down to your clavicle, where he traces the bony area. It’s sensitive.

You shiver and gulp—mouth going dry. Even your own words were gone.

“If I see you with anyone else, I’ll strangle them. You’re mine.” Price said firmly before a hand groped at your chest—squeezing the flesh. Not hard enough to hurt but definitely enough to remind you of his position.

You gasp and your jaw hangs open, to which he finds satisfaction in. His hand lingers, and you feel your core tremble and drip.

Before you could talk—Johnny chimes in over your lines. You switch your comm on shakily, and Price moved away. You fix your dress and take in a breath, trying to calm down as Price adjusts his tie with a harsh, angry pull. “Damned cockblock.” You thought you heard Price mutter.

“Armed suspects approaching the north hallway. 7-2 your closest.” Johnny says to you, and you nod.

You fix your hair and Price stares, eyes narrowing before he responds, “Copy that.” His voice is rough with desire and tension.

You give him a glance before swallowing and moving away. What else could you do or say? As much as the ache between your legs begged for release, you had work to do.

As you turn to face the tall white doors leading to the main hall—Price stalks behind you and ushers you in.

“Report in five.” He said stiffly.

Parting against your will overwhelmed, you knew you also needed the space. That was bloody intense. You usher in and then wait by the arched hallway in the shadows as the men seperate. One is sent for drinks, and shortly after Price follows—who strikes up a civilized conversation about their suits. Most likely discussing brands and where they imported their fabrics from.

Of course, comparing them.

You could hear them faintly.

The other man is sent off—as you heard the leader discuss something about, “Check the Harmonica.”

Now the leader was alone. Sweet. He was tall, towering at 6’4 and had shiny slicked back hair. Lower set brows to reveal a more menacing look, and a chiseled jaw. He tucked his card in his suit front pocket before turning away, down the golden hallway.

Harmonica? Who the hell’s playing a harmonica? You hesitate on whether to tell the team and tap your finger against your thigh. You need more information and without it—it’s considered a distraction.

“Going in. Comms off for now.” You report.

You then make your move, wobbling drunkenly on your heels and on your phone. Clumsily, accidentally on purpose, you bump into the leader. Your phone catches and falls, landing with a thump and you bend to grab it but he is faster first. His nimble fingers pass it to you.

“Oh god—I’m so sorry!” You put on your barbie ecstatic voice. You knew he would be the type to fall for it.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” The man grins and eyes you, shadowed by the hallway lights as you two stand. Far behind is the crowd and music—and you can hear his voice sharply, “Qattara.” He reads your card momentarily, rolling the words out smoothly.

You carry on, plastering a smile on your quite excited features.

“It should be me asking that, you look a little too fine tonight to be alone.” You give him a flirty once over, one he can’t mistake. That pulls him in.

“I assume you’re here for the vault meeting, mm?”

This was going to be a long night.

“Weapons are coming in from Dubai, then he will receive his blood money.” He scoffed, lanky form walking smoothly ahead.

He sounded russian. Typical for any Konni man. The one thing that made it easy to identify them. You stare at his back.

You were poised as you followed him up to the vault room—a suite. You eyed his key card he pulled out, knowing it would come in handy for later. There’s a beep—then the door opens with a soft hiss. Luxurious, you note.

He enters first—you last. You watch your back before shutting the door, your hand pushing it.

“Makarov must be havin’ a helluva time receiving it, then.” You scoff, playing along. You cross your arms, a finger tapping on your bare arm as he strode forward to the table. Soon enough chatter is heard down the other room, and a few tall men enter. One woman.

You’re outnumbered in case it all goes sideways. You remain firm, eyeing and taking in their details. Armed as usual.

“Alright, alright. Enough.“ The leader silenced them. You could hear a pin drop. The woman eyed you, having shorter hair.

He then turns to you quite comically—with a little spin on his heel, tilting his head. You didn’t like the look he’d given you.

Now you felt like his prey. “This fine little lady joined us, Qattara was it?” He asked, slowly walking forward.

But the real Qattara was found and held in Laswells’ quarters for investigation. You were simply her replacement. You could see the other men getting ready to sit—the smell of musky cologne clogging your nostrils. The woman also sat at the end of the table, pressing her skirt down with her manicured nails.

The man ahead tilts his head this way and that as if trying to figure you out. He then comes close and whispers in your ear, “If I find out anything that I don’t like, well. You know where it’ll end.”

“You have nothing to worry about. Let’s talk guns and weapons shall we?” You say, although trying your best to conceal the sarcasm and bitterness as he leaned in. You knew he was trying to assert some sort of dominance over you by instilling fear, yet you knew you had to play compliant.

“Feisty. Давай, join us.”

And so, the meeting began. You mentally made a note of everything, having switched on your wire so the team could hear. You sat across a man, eyes set on the leader who elaborated his plan with his arms, a drink in one hand. No surprise to see it was vodka.

“Good, you’re doing great.” Price said through the comm whilst you nodded your head along to the man.

His voice made you feel tingly—almost comforting through the overpowering masculine presence in the room. Your mind flashed as you remembered the moment in the foyer where he held to you the wall—legs clenching slightly. It was an amazement to you how he managed to do this—switch from absolute madness to team leader.

If anything, it encouraged you. Even though earlier he was absolutely feral.

Teamwork, right?

“Shipment container is being sent here. We’ll have our men stationed there ready to receive the equipment.”

You fold your hands together on the table, catching eyes with an older gruff man. His gun is settled in his lap, hand resting on it. He eyes you with a curiosity and intrigue, and you tilt your head just a bit.

The man doesn’t look away. He’s got a buzzcut, a scruffy jaw and dark eyes. His suit lays flat and firm.

“Where is Makarov located to receive the money?” You ask the most important question. For a second it falls silent as if the misogynistic men did not expect you to have talked. You straighten up and stare down the Leader, firm.

“Why do you need to know that?” The room went still as all eyes were on you.

“I need to know if the money is an international wire transfer.” You reply smartly. You raise a brow and you thought you heard Price chuckle smoothly.

“That’s the lass we know.” Johnny said, before going quiet.

Once given the location of him, you nearly ease up, and nod your head.

You glance up as you stood, the rest of the men leaving the room. You wait, watching their bodies leave single file.

“Where is your accent from?” His gruff voice sounds out. He sounded like a smoker. He’s busy at the bar and you slip the key card the leader left, that rested on the chair seat. You slip it into your bra as if adjusting your girls.

You then pause and still, gathering your thoughts. Moving your hands, you sling your purse over your bare shoulder. Your dress glints in the light and you never remove your eyes from him as he stood across the table.

The door shuts softly.

“Do I sound too american for you?” You give a vague reply, meeting the question with a question. There’s a slight humor to your voice.

The man cocks his head and stares you down. He’s serious, not one for joking.

“You sound much too american for the Qattara I know.” He said sharply, eyes cutting into you like ice. Your blood runs cold and you swallow, eyeing him. It was as if the room dropped several temperatures.

He goes to drink his whiskey from the glass, pouring it back. Something irks you know. The drink was almost like a kicker for him, for what’s to come.

You know you’ve been figured.

Your heart patters as you hear Price growl in the comm line, “Get out.”

Your head spins and you straighten up, smiling slightly and stepping back. Your back faced the exit door.

“And what was that quote? From the Quran? I’m sure you know it.”

“There’s many.” Your answer only confirms his suspicions. Your breath hitched and you know you’re about 10ft away from the door. His eye twitched at your smart ass response.

Price growls and you hear something slamming like a door on his end.

The man slowly stalks closer, holding the glass of whiskey. Until he stops, staring at you. He does not move, but holds the whiskey in his hand.

Your heart pounds and all you could do was stare.

When you don’t say anything—you see the slight movement of his hand gripping the glass and you hurl yourself in your heels, grabbing open the door.

You fling it open just in time for the glass to crash, missing your head. You could hear a barrage of laughter from behind, his voice booming, “I’ll give you ten seconds, before I rip your throat out.”

You’re blazing down the hall, and eventually you throw off your heels, grabbing them. You curse as it threatens to slip off. Again, you think back to the Harmonica. The Harmonica, check on it.

Your heart batters in your chest like a ram, and you could hear a crash and the sound of shoes thudding as he chases after you.

“Harmonica—harmonica—“ You rehearsed, breathing harshly.

“Harmonica what?” Price snaps on the line and you panted. You glanced up at the chandelier, knowing where you were approaching. Soon enough a cold gust of wind blows down the hallway.

“It’s code, Price. Code for something.”

“Like Bravo?”

“Like bravo in the water.”

“A fuckin’ bomb?” Price seethes, “We got a bomb threat unconfirmed in the building.”

“Fuckin’ hell.” Simon hashes out over the line.

“Steamin’ Jesus, we need t’find it.” Johnny says urgently.

“On it.” Kyle said.

“Kyle stay in position.” Price demands, “Simon, where did you last see the men walk off upstairs?”

“Towards the north wing.”

“Fuck, that’s where I am.” You shouted and grab a waiters pan. A loud thunk and clank is heard as you toss it against the mans face who chased you.

“The hell was that—“ Kyle muttered.

“Bonnie—“

“Focus! Simon find the bomb.” You shouted.

“What’s your position?” Price says lowly, although you’re sure you could hear his voice tremble. You focus on turning the hallway—as the cold gush of air worsens.

“North side of the balcony.” You shout and the man follows, his dress shoes slamming rapidly against the carpeted halls. You take off even faster if it was possible, hair flying behind and gun gripped tightly.

To slow him down, with your free hand you yank your gun out the thigh strap. You take a shot but miss. Too hard to do it when you’re running and your gaze is unsteady. The bullet bounces sharply off the wall, and the man grins wolfishly as if hunting his predator.

“7-1, take the North side. You’re closest.” Price orders.

“On it.” Johnnys accented voice sounds in your ear and you know he’s on his way.

“Watcher 1, position to the North Side balcony.” Price orders.

You ran under an archway, feet thudding on what sounded like tiles now. The cold air of the night blew rapidly and you turned, having nowhere to run. The balcony columns were there, guarding your fall.

You wheezed and panted, wide eyed. Looking for the man—he soon approached and rounded the corner with a haste and dangerous glint in his eye. He crossed the area and before you knew it, instincts kicked in.

Your heels hung in your hands, swaying with the breeze. Damned if you were going to lose these expensive Louboutins.

As he strodes forward with vigor—training kicks in. You kneed him in the groin earning a sharp groan—then without time wasted, with your free hand, you bashed his head against your knee as well. A sickening crack was heard and he cried out. Blood sprayed, and you then grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pushed him to the balcony railing.

“Got him, 7-1.” A minute later, Johnny strides in and glaring. His jacket is thrown off revealing underneath his black dress shirt, tight and pulled from each movement. His gun on display.

You move aside, and he grabs the wanker by his suit and hoists him up against the wall roughly.

Time is running out, you panic.

“Johnny, go now.” Johnny growls. His teeth bares at the sight of the wanker just laughing and drags him along.

Just then Simons voice made you two pause.

“Bloody hell, 7-2, we got a bomb. North wing. It’s situated bad near an oxygen line.” Simon mutters and you freeze up. Your hand reached up for the comm, eyes meeting Johnnys’ wide eyes. The man scoffs.

Soon a loud bang is heard on Simons’ end. And then gargling and a thud. He most likely dispatched one of the Konni soldiers.

“Time?!” Johnny growls out. He discards the man, shoving him roughly to the side. The man was useless at that point. He scrambled nearly tripping over on his feet—before dashing off like a cat.

Johnnys’ long legs strode to keep up with you, as you’re running and down the hall, hair flying behind you. Desperately looking out for the foyer doors.

“Blows in 10.” Despite the situation, Simons voice was flat and gruff. You panted and felt your heart racing with realization. It almost sounded as if he accepted this—part of job. Dying at any moment. It sounded too real. Your heart was shriveling.

“Ghost, get out of there now.” Price warns and you hear a, “Copy that.”

“Did he hurt ya?” Johnny immediately looked over you—hearing screams echo about as you both neared the main hall. You shake your head and look at him, eyes wide.

“No. Stay sharp.”

“Hope Simon is able to dispatch the bomb.” Johnny cursed, hurrying you along down the red carpeted hallway.

“No time.” Simon barks over the line.

Property of evanescencelovrr. do not modify, repost, or translate.

Me: WOAHHH bullocks at 6am?! wot happened to hi hello

Breed Me- John Price NSFW

Based on a request: For Kinktober, would you be willing to write Price x F!Reader with the breeding kink prompt? I love your work! ---- F!Reader, MDNI, smut, 18+, established!relationship, P-in-V, unprotected!sex, breeding!kink, husband!Price, oral!sex ----

After arriving back home from yet another mission, your husband walks into your shared bedroom. Once his eyes were set on you, he sighed. Fuck did he miss you. He gets on the bed and all he can do is hold you from behind. You are his haven. His lips find your neck and he begins to place small and tender kisses on your soft skin. You smile and scoot closer to him and he groans. He sighs, and his hand finds its way to your stomach as he slowly grinds himself against you.

You turn around and smile. He looks at you with a smirk, his eyes dark with lust as he meets your gaze. He slips a hand down to grope your ass, pulling you flush against his hard body. "I want to see you round with my child, want to feel you heavy with my seed," his voice is deep and still as seductive as the first time you heard him. You knew he wanted kids, wanted as many as you did so maybe tonight he could start with the first child.

"Please, let me try. Let me love you, worship you, until you're dripping with my cum." He says in a whisper. His lips trailing to your shoulder. He smiles softly at your words, his heart swelling with love for you. He turns his head to capture your lips in another deep, passionate kiss. His hand slides up your sides, cupping your breasts and giving them a gentle squeeze. He breaks the kiss and starts trailing his lips down your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point. He sucks on the skin there, marking you as his. His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, slowly pushing it up and over your head, tossing it aside. He takes a moment to admire your breast, his eyes darkening with lust as he takes in the sight of your body.

He leans down, taking your breast into his mouth and sucking gently, his hand coming up to pinch and roll the other between his fingers. He lavishes your breasts with attention, his tongue swirling around your nipple before moving to the other one to give it the same treatment. His other hand slides down your stomach, dipping into your panties to cup your folds. He grows at the feeling of your wet heat, his fingers sliding through your folds teasingly. "Fuck, you're so wet for me. I'm going to fuck you so good, fill you up just right," he groans. Your moans fill the room and he groans at the sound of your moan.

He leans down, taking one into his mouth and sucking gently, his hand coming up to pinch and roll the other between his fingers. He lavishes your breasts with attention, his tongue swirling around your nipple before moving to the other one to give it the same treatment. His other hand slides down your stomach, dipping into your panties to cup your folds. He grows at the feeling of your wet heat, his fingers sliding through your folds teasingly.

He starts to lap at your pussy, his tongue delving between your folds to taste your sweet nectar. He groans at the taste of you, his tongue swirling around your clit before sucking it into his mouth. He brings his fingers up to your entrance, slowly pushing two fingers inside your tight heat, pumping them in and out in a steady rhythm. "Fuck, you taste so good, love. I could eat this pretty pussy all day. But right now, I need to be inside you. I need to feel your tight cunt squeezing my cock as I fill you up with my seed. I'm going to fuck you so hard, so deep, that you'll be feeling me for days. You're mine, Y/N. All mine. And I'm going to make sure you never forget it."

He stands up, quickly removing his clothes until he's standing before you, naked and hard. He strokes his thick, veiny cock, giving it a few pumps as he lines himself up with your entrance. He leans over you, his hands gripping your hips as he slowly pushes forward, his cock stretching you open as he sinks into your tight heat inch by inch. He groans at the feeling of your walls fluttering around him, your pussy clenching down on his cock like a vice. 

He doesn't stop until he's buried to the hilt inside you, his pelvis pressed against your ass. He pauses momentarily, giving you time to adjust to his size as he nuzzles into your neck, placing soft kisses along your skin. "Fuck, you feel incredible, love. So tight and wet and perfect. Like you were made just for me," he groans, his voice rough with desire. He starts to move, then pulls out slowly before slamming back in, setting a deep, powerful rhythm. He pounds into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the kitchen along with your moans and his grunts. He angles his hips, making sure to hit that special spot inside you with every thrust, determined to make you see stars.

His hand snakes down between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing in tight circles, adding to the pleasure coursing through you. He can feel his orgasm building, his balls tightening as he gets closer and closer to the edge. But he holds back, determined to make you come first, to feel your pussy clenching around him as you scream his name. He redoubles his efforts, fucking into you harder, and faster, his fingers rubbing your clit with increased fervour. "Come for me, Y/N. Let me feel you come apart on my cock. I want to feel you squeeze me, milk me for every last drop. Come on, baby, give it to me. Let go and come all over my cock like the good girl you are."

Your eyes roll back from the stimulation, "John~" you whimper. He groans as he feels your pussy clench around him, your juices coating his cock as you come undone beneath him. He continues to thrust through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure as he chases his own. His hips snap forward, driving into you harder, deeper, his cock throbbing inside your fluttering walls. He buries his face in your neck, biting down on your shoulder as he finally lets go, his cock pulsing as he shoots his hot, thick cum deep inside you. He grinds against you, making sure every last drop is seated inside your womb, filling you up just like he promised. He collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the counter as he catches his breath.

He peppers your neck and face with soft kisses, murmuring words of love and praise against your skin. "That's it, love. You took my cock so well, milked me dry. Fuck, I can feel my cum painting your insides. The thought of you round with my baby, your tits swollen with milk…fuck, it's the hottest thing I've ever imagined. I'll fuck you day and night until my seed takes until you're heavy with my child. You're mine, Y/N. All mine. And I'm going to love you, worship you, for the rest of our lives. I promise you that." He rolls his hips, his softening cock still buried inside you, unwilling to separate from you just yet. He holds you close, savouring the feeling of being inside you, of being one with you. He knows he'll have to pull out eventually, but for now, he wants to stay connected to you, to bask in the afterglow of your lovemaking.

Tags: @liyanahelena @ghostslillady @juneonhoth @Simonssweetgirl @nellsbobells @coralwitchdreamland @nobodys-coffee @sae1kie @anonymuslydumb @goldenmclaren @moonsua1 @frazie99 @saoirse06 @alxexhearts @baldwinhearts @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @strangepuppynightmare @enarien @luvecarson @nellsbobells @ikohniik @strawberrychita @queen-ilmaree @Llelannie @Macnches2 @bbyfimmie @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @1234beeandpuppycat @sparky–bunny @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @pinkblossomsworld @kaoyamamegami @the_royal_bee @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @asianbutnotjapanese @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @born4biriyani @thegreyjoyed @mychemichalimalance @marshiely @iruzias @sleepyycatt @noodlezz-bedo @trinthealternate @vampsquerade @azkza @VampyTheGoth

heres how it started:

progress 5 hours later:

should I post my drawing journey here? :,) im beginning to draw again after years and i wanna document my journey.

back to anatomy (yikes)

Operation: Unforgettable

The Hunt

MDNI, fem pronouns, cursing, fighting, violence, blood, simon gets hurt :(, just a lil guys, reader does an interrogation. some military inaccuracies. inspo from jonny & simons scene as they interrogate milena—but a slight difference :) reader is involved! smut!! p in v.

enjoy yall ur comments & feedback means so much to me!

Masterlist here

You and Johnny managed to find a stairwell leading to the foyer below, immediately traveling down. You both hopped and skipped steps. Your feet hurt as you’re barefoot but there’s bigger fish to worry about now. The steady sound of your heart racing did nothing to soothe your nerves, as you both try to get away from the detonation site.

However, Johnny couldn’t resist making a joke next to you, sweating and heaving himself. He jumps down, skillfully landing.

“Fuckin’ hell lass, you’re somethin’ else runnin’ like tha’.”

“We have to.” You respond stiffly. Johnny could see the firmness yet the anxiety underneath your gaze, and he rounded the steps with you in tow. He had to admire your strength, you were like a stallion in your dress.

Only then—did a loud boom erupt minutes after Simon relayed his last position. One by one, the windows blew out from the pressure, glass shattering everywhere.

Both you and Johnny collapsed onto the stairs from the violent jolt, rolling down as the building swayed and shook, leaving your visions unsteady. Your head banged several times and Johnny himself heaved.

Eventually, your legs got tangled up in his, whilst loud grunts and groans could be heard from the stairwell.

A beam or two creaked loudly before collapsing, just a few feet away from your prone bodies. It lay haphazardly on the stairs. Dust and debris flew everywhere, attacking your nostrils.

Your palms bury in the ground, digging in for stability. There’s pain in your side but you disregard it as the need for survival comes first. Your blood rushes and pumps loudly in your ear, hot and brazen.

Coughing and shaking, Johnnys’ lengthy fingers wrap around your elbows to pull you up, as a series of screams and shouting erupted.

You two both staggered your way to the foyer and out the main hall through a set of doors. Your dress is ripped at the side where the zipper is at—but your focus is on the damage. Your eyes were wide and chest heaving with adrenaline.

It was distraught. The chandeliers had crashed and fell—people running like mad hens. The balcony top left stair crumbled completely, leaving only one side available for access. Glass shattered everywhere and painted the ground in sparkles.

You look to Johnny and he motions for you to stay put as you’re still barefoot. You then realize he has a small gash in his forehead.

“Johnny—“

“I know, dinnae fash yer’self.”

“Simon? Simon report.” Kyle shouts over the line and you spin around to see Kyle sweating and making his way over to you all. His boots crunch over glass, brows taut together.

Your eyes widened and you all wait for a response—head tilted and breaths held. Johnny pinched his chin in a vice grip, as his arms folded.

After a while noise comes in on all your comms.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Simon groans out, roughly. He heaved and groaned with effort, his voice portraying a slight tremor. You clench your gun as the building rumbled above, your eyes flicker to it as it was unsteady.

Another collapse was imminent.

“We gotta get out.” You breathed out harshly.

Johnny glares and grips his fists tightly, glancing at you, “I cannae leave him.”

“Simon, status?” Price shouts and you could hear the exasperation in his tone. Sharp and tense. Where was he? You know he didn’t exit along with you both. Your heart jumped and you frantically look around—no site of him.

“Shrapnel—I think. Stuck in the goddamned suite. It’s burnin. It’s burnin’ real bad’.” Simon huffs, and for a second you can hear the genuine agony in his tone. The smoothness is replaced by a shakiness and slight cry for help.

“Shit.” Johnny drags a hand down his lips.

“The suite? I have the key card.” You scrambled for it in your bra and held it up for the men. Kyle gives you a look but doesn’t say anything, his brows knit together and hands clenched tightly.

Johnny is too caught up with worry to crack a joke for his life. The site of his stern glare and intense gaze nearly had you pissing your pants. It was such a stark contrast to the chipper and vibrant Johnny.

Price cursed over the line as he didn’t have one. “Johnny, take the card. Meet me at the north side fast. We’ll get him out.” Price ordered tensely.

“Copy that.” Johnny replies instantly through his comm, yanking the card from your grasp. He turned into a blur as he angled between the yelling crowd. He was heading back to the dangerous burning site.

You couldn’t protest, or join him, as you’re left with Kyle. There was nothing for you to do anymore—you’re barefoot. Following would only compromise the mission and rescue op, and it made no sense.

Your dress is ripped at the seam, exposing a small amount of skin. It was easily hidden by your arms though when you lowered it. Your stomach doesn’t ease, though. Anxiety crawls up and down your stomach, making it churn uneasily. You feel the need to throw up but push it aside, closing your eyes momentarily.

The whole mission had turned upside down. With the explosion, and Simon hurt, two men going in to find him, it was a mess.

Kyle then motions for you to move out, from behind. “Come on.”

Turning to stumble out you cough from the smoke, back rattling. A woman races past you, her heels clicking. A fury of short hair flying. She shoves at a person, angling to run past.

That’s the one you recognize from the meeting upstairs.

You don’t hesitate.

Immediately pulling away from Kyle, you ran to her and threw her body against the column, fastening her hands around her back. She shouted and writhed, and Kyle sprinted over, grasping her shoulder to keep her still.

“She’s one of em.” You state roughly, jerking your gaze to him as you hold her wrists, “Stop resisting. We got you.”

The woman snarls and you then jerk her over to Laswell who’s by her SUV, in her tactical vest and wired up. She eyes the woman and recognition flashes in her eyes, “We got her.”

Laswell takes over and arrests her in the SUV for good measure. You sigh loudly, one job less to worry about.

Everyone is evacuated outside beyond a fence line and firefighter trucks roll in—blaring. Their lights flash brightly and you hear the shouts of them as they unload and begin working the aerial to the north side to cool the fire.

“We can’t vent the roof, it’ll collapse.” A firefighter shouted.

Unease fills you as your team members are still inside.

You turn back to Laswell, your jaw set and even the muscle jumps from the tension, “Fuckers figured me out. They’re gonna stall the delivery.”

You cursed and shook your head, praying Simon and Price made it back safely. Your eyes kept wandering back to the entrance, seeing smoke bellow and fire rave from above.

“No use worrying about that. We got her.” Kyles’ brow raised in the direction of the woman sitting in the car. She’s scowling, her head hung low and silent. You had a feeling she’d be tough to crack.

“Let’s hope she knows more than something. Can’t wait for the interrogation.” You scoff and cross your arms, then swivel your head to Kyle and Laswell.

“You and me both.” Kyle said firmly, not removing his steel gaze from her. He watched her like a hawk, eyeing her every movement.

“Has Qattarra cracked?” You ask, brow raised at Laswell.

“No. She’s been silent.” Laswell sighs, holding her walkie.

Just then—her walkie signals and your comms shoot alive.

“Bravo Team—how copy?”

“Good.” Kyle shifted on his soot covered dress shoes and sends his gaze to the entrance of the venue, vigilant and cautious.

“Price?” You immediately say, hand flying to your comm.

“We’re good. Kyles’ with me. Unharmed.” You said firmly, turning over to look at the entrance as well. Your eyes narrowed, trying to see for a sign of them. The smoke is so thick and turning black, a race against time.

Parts of the building structure rain down heavily, people dodging just in time as a statue crumbled down. Rocks collide and slam on the pavement.

Not a good sign.

“Everyone out! It’s gonna blow.” The fire chief shouts gruffly in his walkie, eyeing the blackening fire as he strides around the front of the venue. He grips his walkie talkie tightly, chest rising and falling from exertion. His eyes are filled with a maddening worry you understand.

“On the way.” Price says gruffly before the line glitches. You swallowed, heart pattering. As you watch the entrance, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of anxiety. Of course you cared for the team. You knew Simon was injured, and Johnny was in there helping.

And Price—he sounded okay.

A minute passed and eventually you see three hunky figures come out the smoke and debris. Simon is placed on a stretcher, his mask still on and his eyes are shut weakly. His rugged and pale features were on display—white vest completely soaked red. You know it’s not good. His arm drapes off the side and he then raises it, to give Johnny a thumbs up clumsily.

The blood loss made him woozy, because the real Simon would’ve never done such a thing. It only made you even worried, fingers itching to come over.

Johnny scoffs and can’t help the grin despite the situation. But immediately, Price and him and rushed to the side and Simon is placed in the awaiting ambulance.

“I’m goin’ with him, Cap.”

“Could use the help.” Price said, eyeing Johnny. But Johnny looks conflicted and stressed again—eyes flashing.

Price could sense his unease and then nods his head to the ambulance.

Johnny climbs in immediately and the doors shut.

Behind, a mushroom cloud of smoke erupts and another boom commences. The entire building shifts as the medics drive away to the nearest hospital. The roof caved in—leaving an expansive gaping hole where the fire broke free.

Before you could walk towards them, Kyle grabs your arm. You glance at it before looking at his warm charcoal eyes. You almost get lost in them—they shine so brilliantly in the light.

“Not yet.” He says gently, although his eyes stayed on yours. “Stay with me.”

You stay by his side and more than ever, you’re thankful for your team member. Kyle places a comforting hand on your shoulder and you crossed your arms tightly, brows set in a furrow.

Back at base, it was absolutely tense. Price leaned over his desk, suit jacket thrown aside and tie loose. He looked a mess. He was stiff and silent, bracing his hands on the desk. A strand of his hair flicked down.

And Kyle sat on the couch, elbows resting on his knees, and hunched over. He was tense as well, his leg was bouncing a million miles a minute, the sound of his zipper flapping filling your ears.

“Come on, we can’t waste time.” Price suddenly spoke up and you’re immediately at his side. You moved from the table you were leaning against, causing your gear to shift.

Kyle looks up, alert and awake.

You lean over the table and Laswell strides in—sensing the tension in the office. Her heels click loudly, arms swinging with vigor. A few other men follow in and they set their briefcases down, unloading a bunch of paperwork.

“He’s alright. Just checked in with the surgeon. A bit of shrapnel pierced his lung.” Laswell said—immediately loud sighs and groans filled the room of relief.

Kyle got up and followed them to the table determined as ever. His fists are clenched, as he too understands the importance of his team.

“First name basis, huh? That’ll do ya a lot.” Price said to Laswell, slightly amused to help the situation, although his face was focused.

She scoffed and turned her torso to the interrogation room, chest heaving. She was coated thinly with sweat from all the movement. “Better to have connection with me than to not, right?”

“Damn right.” Kyle said, rubbing his scruffy jaw.

“Is she talking?” Laswells eyes snapped to Price, before the interrogation window again. Inside, the woman sat. It was the woman Laswell arrested.

You craned your neck, eyes narrowing slightly. Your arms were crossed and your blazer pulled tightly at the corners from the effort.

“I haven’t taken a crack at her yet.” You said, then uncrossed your arms and placed them onto the cold glass table. Your eyes peer up at Laswell, seeing Kyle grow irritated at the lack of the woman’s compliance. You can’t blame him. Time was ticking and Simon got hurt because of her incompetence as well as her people.

“Take a stab at her. We need the details.” Laswell cocks her head.

You look to Price who nodded, his eyes tracking you. You clear your throat and enter in. You strode on your kitten heels that gave just a bit of height, whilst not destroying your feet from earlier events. You cross your arms and lean over her, your dress pants straining.

She sat, head down. But upon hearing you, she stiffens up.

“Milena.” You say, slowly. Almost as if tasting her name on your tongue. The glint in your eyes make her stiffen up and she swallowed, clutching at her arms. She doesn’t like the way you say it and it only irks her.

Good.

“I hear you’re not talking.”

Milena grits her teeth, her eyes darting away. That only elicits a dangerous flame to light in you. You take well to hostages behaving stubborn and defiant—especially when the team was under pressure already.

“Who’s your Boss?” You spit, impatiently and frustrated. Your hand slam down on the table, asserting dominance and frightening her sitting form.

She swallowed and her chest heaved.

“I don’t have one. I work alone.” Her russian accent is thick and she enunciates the “t” heavily. You narrow your eyes, not buying it for a second. A lone woman like her? She must have connections and ties. Special relations.

Besides you is a laptop and you grab at it swiftly, leaning over it.

“I don’t buy your bullshit.”

“Believe what you want, if it comforts you.” She spat, and you turn your head to her. Something in your expression shifts and it has her shaking. You raised a brow—almost in admiration and respect for her tone. You’re slightly amused as well, by the hostage.

She sure had it coming. “For someone who’s being held captive, you have a lot of tongue on you.”

Milena glares up at you, resembling a pouting child in your eyes.

You lean forward, not hesitating to grab her hand.

She tensed up. “What are you doing—“

“Taking your hand—“

“Why? So you can cut it off?” Milena snaps, as you drag her finger to the sensor of the laptop. You scoff, a lip quirking up. Now she was giving you ideas. You’re amused by her behavior even more, finding it entertaining.

“Don’t go around threatening me with a good time, Milena.” You say smoothly.

This shuts her up for now.

Immediately you have access to her banking site and Milena recognized the site. She crossed her arms once her hand is free, glancing at it with daggers, her silence was soon replaced by another snarky comment, “Nothing in my bank account will get you closer to Vladimir.”

Your head lowered as you scrolled through her bank account. Sure enough you recognize the transfers and ID numbers. You suck in a breath, and soon behind you, you hear commotion. You don’t turn around though, whatever it is, Price has it handled.

That was until the interrogation room slammed open, revealing a tall and hunky, sweating Simon. He’s coiled and tense, his simple balaclava mask revealing brooding and bloodshot eyes. He leans heavily on the door, his eyes trailing over to your leaning form, and then Milena like daggers. Like he caught his prey.

You clamp your mouth shut—and realize Milena was in for a good scare.

Sure enough, she begins to breathe heavily at the sight and you hear Johnny from behind—“I tried to get him to listen—“

The door shuts.

“Why the mask?” Milena digs at Simon who leans against the wall, burly arms crossed as he watches you work like a hawk.

The Brit has no little to no patience. Frustration rolls off of him in waves and you know he’s seconds away from releasing what he’s holding back. He’s more so pissed off—not by the little lady bickering and trying to start an after school fight, but the fact the mission tossed sideways, wasting more time. Precious time.

He was like a toy box winding up. For now, he stood back.

“To hide my face.” He responds gruffly, his strong Manchester accent spitting out.

Milena jumps, not expecting it.

“Her bank records trace back to the Zordaya Prison. Multiple Konni accounts are hidden in here, damned witch.” You spit, eyes cutting her a stare you know she can’t run from.

“Money for Makarovs escape.” Simon puts two and two together. The name made her flinch and she looked away from Simon.

You revel in her reaction.

“Wealth opens doors.” The smug woman says, shrugging. Despite her cocky choice of words, you could tell she was close to cracking. And Simons presence was making it a helluva lot harder for her to stay still.

You scoffed. “More like blood money. That’s what this is.”

“Swiss account. Personal. It’s been tapped.” You say, unable to help the lifting grin that graces your lips. You lean back on one heel— bent to gaze at the laptop. You got her now.

This seems to have struck her nerve and sleuth of russian escapes past her lips—glaring at you.

“Думаешь, я тебя не пойму? (You think I wouldn’t understand you?)

You return, seeing her shrink down, her heart elevated. Her corotid is jumping at your efficiency Russian—cracking her open. Having another woman beat down on her and expose her, all whilst in her mother tongue was like slicing a knife through her.

Simon nodded his head up very slightly in approval of your tone. He has seen you interrogate a few times, and knows you have nothing in you to sit down and enjoy a game of poker. If anything, you were similar to him. But he didn’t carry the decorum you did.

You go back for her hand and she yells, “What the fuck are you doing—“

Simon then advanced forward, having enough of this. He ignores his pain, and looms over her beside you, head positioned down. His heavy lidded eyes bore into hers like needles, the black war paint illuminating them more dangerously. “Give her the print, or tell us where to find Makarov.”

You inwardly thank him for his support. But for now, you remain focused, eyeing her.

“Fuck. You.”

She should not have done that.

Simon leans forward slowly, angling himself. He searched her eyes and then narrowed them, invading her personal space to where she flattened herself against the chair in terror.

The look in his eyes—the impatience, the way they flickered with something unbridled, made her hesitate.

“We. Need. Makarov.” Simon then enunciated, his voice coming out in a poisonous spit. He never removes his steel eyes from hers, his hand slowly reaching for his sidearm to threaten her even more.

If anything the pain stabbing his lung makes him growl out the words insistently, with a sense of force. “Now.” His lip sneers.

“Where is he?” He demanded, much less of a question. You had to admit, his voice sent chills down your spine as you watched them both. You admire Simon as he worked efficiently despite his injury.

Milena’s lips wobbled and she then shouted his location.

——

You’re busy gearing up before the next mission in the armory, pulling on your shirt. Your hair is tied up and out the way, shifting on your combat boots with ease. You replay the interrogation in your mind over and over again, never wanting to be in Milenas’ position. Simon had her real good. He was getting checked by Johnny in the meantime—to which you heard Simon cuss.

Soon, boots scuffled against the ground and Price appears. He slaps a folder on the table beside him, and enters in, closing the door. A moment with the captain.

You spin around slowly, brow raised. You know he’s here to talk. Your hand works the pouch you wore, tightening the belt.

“That russian sounded a lil’ too good.” He said gruffly, almost with a proud glint as he watched you. He leaned against the door, his arms crossed. The lights above flickered and you swallowed, resting your shotgun rifle in the locker. It slumps from the weight.

His gaze is like a knife tracing over your hot searing skin.

“Price.” You said, eyes meeting his burning ones.

“You think I forgot that little stunt you pulled?” He then stalked closer, after the lock clicked as his hand moved. It hung by his side and your breath hitched. You were clad in your cargo pants, and a compression top, yet the top did nothing to provide pressure to calm your pounding heart.

“Price, I—“ You said his name, trying to explain but he cuts you off when he grappled for your waist and pressed you against one of the lockers firmly. His eyes roam all over you and he shushes you, his breath fanning across your face.

“I know, I know you said it was a game. Is that all this is to you?” He says lowly, a slightly condescending tone to it. You narrow your eyes and something in your heart lurched at his words. Was it all just a game? Only sex?

“What is it to you, if it’s just a game?” You spit back, feeling your head press against the locker metal. You swallow and his eyes track the way your neck moves, a hand reaching up to stroke the delicate skin. It makes you shudder, your resolve weakening. But you grip the side of the open locker door tightly.

“Quite answering my questions with questions, sweet’art. You know where that’ll land you.” Price murmurs and then his larger hand gently wraps around your neck. You nearly found yourself melting into his touch, the simple act drawing something submissive out of you.

Your head tilts and gently his padded fingers press at the side of your neck, not choking, but holding.

“You and that little red dress. All night. Teasing me. I need to get it off.” Price whispers, leaning in to touch the shell of your ear. His tongue licks the curve and you closed your eyes, feeling heat spread between your legs and stomach.

“You think I didn’t think about you? How we could’ve been matching? If you wore a red tie. Matching with my heels. My dress. My lipstick.”

“Is that what you want?” His warm voice traveled deep in you, and sent shivers, “Because if you want that, we’d have to be more.”

You stiffen up and tilt your head to look at him. His hand strokes your belly, before traveling low and under your shirt. He teases your waistband, and removes your gun and pouch. He places them in the locker and resumes his movements, feeling for the thin lacy material.

Your breath catches, “And what? Do you like the sound of us being more?”

“You tell me, with those pretty noises.” Price nearly groans it in your ear, his body weight pressing against yours with need. Your legs shake as he managed to find that pudgy button and warmth explodes in your lower area. You bit your lip to which he grabs your chin and jerks it to him.

He watches as the flesh gets pulled under your teeth and pants at the sight. “I’ll make you forget him.”

“I don’t care about him.” You said roughly, aching with need and desire for Price. Your chest heaved, feeling his hand stroke soothing circles right where you craved it the most. The skin erupts with tingles and you struggle to hold back a moan to talk.

“And you care about me? You can’t get me outta’ that pretty head of yours?” Price hums and it almost sounds condescending. But to you, it sounds hot. The way he teases and taunts you as you’re in no position to bite back.

Your panties are soaked—an admission of your feelings. “When you make it sound like that, it’s as if I care more.” You scoff.

Price pushed against you more—causing a strangled gasp to leave you. His hand presses firmly against your poor throbbing clit, his nose brushing your jaw, then your ear and to the slender curve of your neck.

“You have a nasty mouth on you. Been too long since our last fucking?” He growls out, shoving your pants down swiftly. Before you know it, he delivers a sharp slap to your puffy clit and you jerk, crying out.

“Get on me.” He orders. You jump and wrap your legs around his wider waist and arms around his neck, angling your head to kiss him feverishly. It’s true. Ever since the venue you’re left for craving for him all over again. You want to ravish him and take him all for yourself—much more than ever.

And Price is consumed by the same feelings. The desire to feel you around him, shaking and unable to focus on anything else but the way he stretches you. He wants to make you forget about him—that stupid little boy, and wants you to focus on what he can give you instead.

“I’ve got you.” He whispers in the kiss, almost soothingly, as if reassuring you your desires were safe to explore. Your head spins at his voice and warmth climbs up your arms and neck, as a flush settles on your cheeks.

“You and those pretty little heels. The ones I got for ya. Would love to do you in those.” Price huffs and grabs your face, kissing harder before you could respond. He swings around to dump your behind on the table and it shakes. Your hands immediately unfasten his belt and Price groans with need.

“I made sure to save em. You never know.” You tease, panting heavily in his mouth. Price helps you undo his thick belt and tosses them aside, the metal clanking. His pants drop heavily, and he scrambles to yank off his shirt.

Naked now, all that’s exposed are thick quads, bulky legs and a toned abdomen. Which is covered in a happily trail leading lower. You could see the imprint of his bulge against his boxers and you nearly drool. There’s a wet spot and you only imagine the way the liquids must be leaking down in thin white beads. Over the veins, over the throbbing skin.

You trail your eyes up and take in the sight of his wider chest, biceps flexing and straining as he undoes his boxers. His eyes stare at you hungrily, lips parting to breath harsh and fast—his hair chest rising and falling.

“Eyeing me up as if this ain’t the first time.” He mutters, discarding his boxers and then leaning in. You groan loudly, although muffled as his lips silence yours, moving with a fast unbridled pace. His tongue immediately pushes in, seeking entrance and demanding to explore.

Your tongue twirl and tangle. This isn’t soft and sensual with the usual tender licks—no he was livid. In the way his tongue pursued yours. Your head tilted back and you scrambled off your panties as well.

Soon, he slots himself between your legs.

“Raw?” He mutters, jerking himself off as precum dribbles down and coats his veiny, thick shaft. His balls were hanging low and his bulbous head points at you, red and angry. It’s thick and wide enough to bully your folds.

You moan at the sight, and the sound revs him. “Raw. Get it in.”

And just like that, his hips fill yours. He doesn’t stop, no, he pushes in one go and the feeling has you yelling in ecstasy. Immediately his hand covers your pretty mouth to muffle it and your head is craned back against the wall, feeling him bottom out. His tip kisses your cervix snug, and you had no time to adjust before the man starts pounding.

“Take it, take it all. Every inch. Naughty girls like you need this. You crave it, don’t you?” Dirty words fly out your captains mouth as his hips jack hammer at an intense unforgiving pace. Each pound has gasps leaving you, body shaking. The fat of your thighs jiggle, and your hands scramble to hold the edge of the shaking table.

“Oh, you can’t respond.” Price said smugly, keeping his hand over your mouth. He can feel how you quake and grab at his length, gummy walls squeezing and collapsing. It hugs him down good he groans and vocalizes his sounds. His head lowers, and long groans left him, eyes shutting at the feeling.

You grab at his head with one hand—the other supporting you and you eye him. You’re hazy with pleasure and your head spine, as the table squeaks and rocks.

“Oh? You want to hear me more?” Price leans and whispers, in your ear. His hand stays firm on your mouth and he chuckles shakily—entertained by your actions. The way you can’t talk, completely consumed by his control.

He breaths out loudly, with a mixture of a guttural moan leaving him. The sound has you rolling your eyes back.

“That’s right, you like it when I come in to do you? Hm? And cover your mouth—so no one can hear your filthy noises?” He grunts sharply, sweating. He grips the table with his one hand and then his other rests on your stomach, pressing and feeling his bulge jut in and out.

“Be a good girl and stay quiet, f’me.”

You try—his hand has you gasping and writhing, eyes shutting tightly. You think you see stars, the pressure was making it intense. Your legs spasm and your feet arch, toes curling. You barely repress this noise.

“You’re doing so good, sitting there, legs spread like a doll. Takin’ it f’me.”

“You jus’ needed my cock, didn’t you?”

You couldn’t believe the dirty things flying out his mouth. All you could do was groan loudly and shudder, sweat soaking your skin completely. You were sure you needed a shower before gearing up.

“Fuck, Price.” You could only say, yet be understood how lost in the pleasure you were. His eyes roamed greedily over the way you arched, your breasts jutting out and the skin trembling. Your hair bouncing back, angling your head so your neck was revealed and clavicle. Your brows arched and lips parted to moan.

“God you look so fuckin’ pretty under me.” He rasps, leaning in over you. Your back falls onto the table and you accidentally shove his folder off. It falls—paper scattering about. But none of you care.

If anything, he jack hammers into you, right against your gummy spot where he knows he’ll have you crying out the most. But he quickly covers your mouth to silence you—sweating himself. A strand of his hair falls forward onto his forehead.

“Shh shh, take it.” He can see the pleasure in your eyes, the tears. The haziness has him hooked completely, and he is sure he can never erase you out of his mind. Soon enough he feels his balls tighten and he grunts, eyeing you. You shudder and grab at the table, approaching your orgasm. Your toes curl and your neck tenses up.

Price pulls out before he could release into you, splattering onto your stomach. He grunts loudly and leans his head down to muffle them into your sweaty neck, as you convulse under him.

Soon, the two of you are left shaking and panting for air. You could feel his release traveling against your skin and sinking into your navel and your hands scramble to his shoulders. You’re still experiencing the afterglow and your eyes blink slowly.

“You bloody idiot. You came on me.” Your voice is somewhat groggy.

“Would you have rather me come into you?” Price teased, gruffly. He straightens up, needing a shower himself. He looked at your stomach and reveled in the way it coated you, thick fluids gliding. Your stomach quivered and he sucked in a breath.

“Fuck—no.” You muttered and sighed. Shakily you grabbed a napkin—but Price stopped you.

“Stop. You’re wasting it.” He muttered, holding your wrist. You paused and stared up at him wide eyed, still flushed.

“I’ll teach you what to do when you let me cum like this.” He murmurs and then his finger traces down your stomach. You jump, still sensitive from your orgasm and shudder. You whimper, and he stifled a groan at it.

Before you know it, your lips are wrapped around his finger that feeds you his sticky fluids. He watches the way those plump lips stuck, and he nuzzles your head with his nose. “So good f’me.”

The mere words has you melting. You wouldn’t do something as depraved as this—yet here you were. Eating his release that landed on your stomach. The things he made you do.

He then grabbed his clothes when you finished and you did as well, your back facing him. None of you say anything. The silence pierces your heart and you ignore the dull ache. You wanted to hear him say something. Something soft.

To be held.

The way he held you just now.

More.

But instead, you were met with his muscled back and you frowned. You were glad he couldn’t see you, because you looked like a kicked puppy. You then put your clothes on before heading to the showers. The door shuts, and Price buckled himself up, fingers working fast as he watches you leave.

The one thing he can’t get out his mind, is how you looked wrapping your lips around his finger and swallowing him. Those half lidded eyes consumed by pleasure and a hint of surprise at your own behavior.

Property of evanescencelovrr. do not modify, repost, or translate.

Hey yall in the COD fandom.🤭🤭..if any of yall are artists could someone possibly uh.. either make orrr link some art that would be good to use for a lil uh... body pillow that would be great, 👀👀👀my requests are price and ghost and konig. ❤️❤️🥺🥺🥺

(Please no like full nudity, I still live with my parents yall, I don't need em to like question my sanity.)💀💀💀🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️

Shirtless is fine but keep them undies on!! 👀👀Also ghost better keep his mask on for both sides same with konig.. so um if yall need some like compensation I could write yall a lil sum sum👀👀, or I could even draw yall something! 🦖😶(I just don't got no money for yall and I'm starving for some body pillows cause they lacking in that department.🧍‍♀️)

(PS it would only be used for personal use, I promise I won't use it for monetary gains)😚😚😚

Either dm me or tag me if you do it! Or reblog this with it attached. I'm actually sobbing because there's like nothing good for any of the characters I want and I'm so sad rn

Hey yall in the COD fandom.🤭🤭..if any of yall are artists could someone possibly uh.. either make orrr link some art that would be good to use for a lil uh... body pillow that would be great, 👀👀👀my requests are price and ghost and konig. ❤️❤️🥺🥺🥺

(Please no like full nudity, I still live with my parents yall, I don't need em to like question my sanity.)💀💀💀🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️

Shirtless is fine but keep them undies on!! 👀👀Also ghost better keep his mask on for both sides same with konig.. so um if yall need some like compensation I could write yall a lil sum sum👀👀, or I could even draw yall something! 🦖😶(I just don't got no money for yall and I'm starving for some body pillows cause they lacking in that department.🧍‍♀️)

(PS it would only be used for personal use, I promise I won't use it for monetary gains)😚😚😚

Either dm me or tag me if you do it! Or reblog this with it attached. I'm actually sobbing because there's like nothing good for any of the characters I want and I'm so sad rn

I ended up finishing some artwork for money, and I am now going to have my body pillows commissioned. I'm very excited!!!!

Hey yall in the COD fandom.🤭🤭..if any of yall are artists could someone possibly uh.. either make orrr link some art that would be good to use for a lil uh... body pillow that would be great, 👀👀👀my requests are price and ghost and konig. ❤️❤️🥺🥺🥺

(Please no like full nudity, I still live with my parents yall, I don't need em to like question my sanity.)💀💀💀🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️

Shirtless is fine but keep them undies on!! 👀👀Also ghost better keep his mask on for both sides same with konig.. so um if yall need some like compensation I could write yall a lil sum sum👀👀, or I could even draw yall something! 🦖😶(I just don't got no money for yall and I'm starving for some body pillows cause they lacking in that department.🧍‍♀️)

(PS it would only be used for personal use, I promise I won't use it for monetary gains)😚😚😚

Either dm me or tag me if you do it! Or reblog this with it attached. I'm actually sobbing because there's like nothing good for any of the characters I want and I'm so sad rn

Hello my faggots in Christ. Wonderful to see you all today.

Just a friendly reminder than I need John Price up my ass.

Thank you.

Goodbye.

HIIIIYYAA CHAT GUESS WHO FIGURED OUT HOW TWO POST 🔥🔥

first time in a hot minute i drew trad yooooo

more trad art cause im going insane x3

saw a guy duel weilding a cup of coffee and a cigar and thought, "damn, that is so price coded"